The wedding was beautiful.
Not just "expensive" beautiful — fairytale beautiful.
Thousands of roses.
A dress stitched with crystals.
A pink carpet instead of red — because she always said red was "too loud."
It was Arabella Quinn's dream come true.
But as she walked down the aisle, heart fluttering, something felt wrong.
Because the groom, standing like carved stone at the altar…
Didn't smile.
Didn't reach.
Didn't even look at her.
Cassian Vale — her childhood friend.
The boy who once wrapped a curtain around his shoulders and called himself her prince.
The one who gave her a flower crown when she was six and said, "One day, I'll give you a real one."
He had forgotten.
Or maybe… he wanted to forget.
Arabella's hands trembled as her father placed them in Cassian's cold grip.
"Do you, Cassian Vale, take Arabella Quinn—"
"I do."
Sharp. Quick. Like a business deal.
Arabella forced a smile.
"I do."
She blinked back tears as the crowd cheered. Cameras flashed. Petals fell from above like a pink rainstorm.
They kissed. Barely. A brush. Not even warm.
Later, at the reception, she stood in designer heels beside him as strangers congratulated them.
"She's stunning," someone said. "Like a real-life doll."
Cassian's response?
"She always has been."
No emotion. No pride. Just a statement of fact.
When the crowd finally thinned and the music softened, she turned to him.
"Do you remember when we were kids?"
He sipped his drink, eyes scanning the room. "No."
She laughed bitterly. "You used to call me princess."
"I call a lot of people what they want to hear."
Ouch.
Arabella swallowed hard. "You gave me a flower crown."
"And now I gave you a diamond one. You should be happy."
Her voice cracked. "I didn't want the crown. I wanted the boy who meant it."
He looked at her then — just briefly.
And in that single glance, she saw it.
Something did flicker behind his cold eyes.
Guilt? Memory?
Or maybe regret?
But it was gone too fast.
"Grow up, Arabella," he said quietly. "This isn't a fairytale anymore."
And he walked away, leaving her standing there in her perfect dress… feeling more like a prop than a bride.
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