The morning of the wedding felt too calm, the calm that hides chaos underneath.
The sky was painfully bright, the kind of blue that looks artificial, almost cruel. Even the wind refused to move, like the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.
I woke before dawn, surrounded by silence. The world outside my window was peaceful. My reflection in the glass looked ghostlike against the pale light, my eyes hollow, my body still wrapped in the echo of dreams I couldn't remember.
The make up artist knocked softly on the door. "Ms. Santos, it's time."
The bridal suite smelled of roses and perfume. The makeup artist worked in silence, her brushes whispering across my skin. The strokes were gentle, practiced, and almost reverent but it felt like she was painting someone else's reflection, not mine.
"Almost done," she murmured, applying the last touch of blush.
I nodded absently, staring at the woman in the mirror with perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect lie.
"You look beautiful," she said softly.
"Thank you." My voice sounded far away, detached, like it belonged to someone rehearsing lines.
When she stepped back, she smiled. "You look perfect."
The word felt cruel.
Because I wasn't. I was just pretending again, pretending to be the woman everyone wanted me to be.
The gown fit flawlessly, every lace detail hand-stitched, every pearl in place. It was designed to look timeless, elegant. The dress that turned love into spectacle. But as I stood there, my reflection blurred behind the weight of the veil, I realized something. Thag beauty meant nothing when your heart wasn't in it.
My chest felt tight. I tried to breathe, but every inhale came out shallow, strained. My fingers trembled as I reached for the bouquet of white roses, Daniel's choice, symbolizing purity. I almost laughed at the irony.
The coordinator peeked in. "They're ready for you, Ms. Santos."
I nodded, forcing a smile. "I'll be right there."
The hotel corridors were lined with white flowers and gold ribbons. Soft music played from hidden speakers. Every guest who passed smiled at me with that same look of admiration, envy, and expectation.
Someone whispered, "She looks so happy."
If only they knew.
My heart was pounding, not from excitement, but from something darker. Of panic, guilt, and the unbearable weight of pretending.
Then I saw him.
Eli.
He was standing at the far end of the hallway, near the glass doors that opened into the garden. He wasn't supposed to be there, not this close, not today. But he was. His suit was dark and understated. His posture was still like he was holding everything inside.
Our eyes met.
And for a moment, everything else disappeared. No more flowers. I couldn't hear the music. I couldn't see the crowd waiting below.
He didn't smile. He didn't move. He just looked at me like he saw straight through me, down to every part of me I tried to hide.
I should have looked away.
But I didn't.
Something in me refused to.
The doors opened, and the soft tune of the wedding march began. It's slow, delicate, and beartbreakingly beautiful.
The guests stood. The cameras were flashing and the petals fell like snow.
I walked forward with one step then another. Each movement felt like a countdown.
Daniel waited at the altar, smiling. His suit was immaculate, his posture was perfect, and his expression's full of everything I was supposed to feel.
"You made it," he whispered when I reached him.
"I did," I replied quietly. "For now."
He chuckled softly, unaware of what those two words really meant.
The priest began to gave his blessings and spoke of promises and words that blurred into sound. All I could hear was my loud and desperate heartbeat.
My palms felt damp and ny throat tightened. The world tilted slightly around me.
Every vow I'd practiced in front of the mirror dissolved from memory. Every reason I told myself to stay began to unravel.
Daniel's voice broke through the haze. "Lia?"
I blinked. "What?"
He smiled, gentle and patient. "It's your turn."
My lips parted, but no words came out.
It was as if my body had forgotten how to speak.
All I could do was feel the pressure in my chest, the sting of tears I refused to shed, and the weight of everything I'd been pretending to want.
I looked at Daniel — the man who had built a life around order, stability, certainty. The man who said he loved me but never once looked at me the way Eli did — like I was both the question and the answer.
And then, as if pulled by gravity, my gaze found him again.
Eli stood near the back, half-hidden among the guests. His steady and unblinking eyes met mine.
In that look, there were no words, no promises. Just understanding.
And that was all it took.
I couldn't do it.
My fingers slipped from Daniel's grasp.
The priest paused mid-sentence with his faltering tone. The crowd murmured restlessly.
"Lia?" Daniel's voice was soft, confused. "What's wrong?"
Everything.
I took a shaky step back. "I'm sorry."
"Lia—"
But before he could reach for me, I turned.
The bouquet slipped from my hands, scattering the petals across the marble floor. My heels clicked against the aisle as I began to run. It was slow at first, then it became faster, until I was breathlessly moving on instinct.
Gasps echoed around the room. But all I heard was the rush of my own heartbeat.
I run towards Eli who was standing by the open doors. Like he'd known all along that this was how it would end.
He didn't move at first. He just watched me, his eyes searching mine, waiting for permission, maybe, or courage.
When I reached him, everything stopped.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. His voice trembled slightly, the kind of tremor that comes from wanting something too much.
I looked up at him, the man who once broke me, the man who still held every piece.
"Yes," I breathed. "I'm done running from the wrong things."
He hesitated only for a second, then he tightly took my hand.
And together, we ran.
Through the doors.
Through the storm of voices.
Through the shards of a life I no longer wanted.
The air outside hit me like a wave. The sky had darkened, and clouds gathering overhead with thunder rumbling somewhere distant.
I could hear the commotion behind us. There are shouts, footsteps, flashes from cameras. But none of it mattered anymore.
Because I wasn't running away.
I was finally running toward something.
Toward the truth.
Toward the man who never stopped being my unfinished story.
Toward the life I should've chosen long ago.
And as the first drops of rain began to fall, Eli squeezed my hand and looked at me, not with pity, not with triumph, but with quiet understanding.
We didn't speak.
We didn't need to.
Because sometimes, freedom doesn't come with words.
It comes with the sound of your heart finally keeping pace with your feet.