The silence inside the bridal suite was unreal.
Hours ago, it had been full of laughter, cameras, stylists, her mother's voice shouting for powder, gloss, flowers, and perfection. But now… it was empty. The mirror still held the reflection of a woman in full wedding dress, but there was no wedding left to attend.
Maya stared at herself.
Her makeup was flawless.
Her veil was still pinned perfectly.
Her bouquet sat untouched on the table.
Everything about her screamed bride… except her heart.
Her heart was no longer a bride.
It was something sharper. Colder. Stronger.
She removed the veil slowly, letting it fall to the ground. The soft fabric pooled at her feet like a ghost of the life she barely escaped.
How humiliating.
How ridiculous.
How surreal.
Her husband—no, the man who was supposed to be her husband—had walked out of their wedding with another woman. Not just any woman—her bridesmaid. A woman she trusted. A woman she had helped dress that very morning.
Lena.
Maya swallowed the anger burning her throat.
She had cried enough in the limousine.
She wasn't going to cry again.
Not for him.
Not for them.
Not anymore.
A soft knock sounded.
"Come in," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
The door opened, and in walked Julian Hartfield—her brother-in-law. Or… ex–brother-in-law? The rich, untouchable, terrifyingly composed CEO of Hartfield Holdings.
He was still in his tuxedo, but he had removed his bowtie. His jaw was tight. His eyes—storm-grey and unreadable—landed on her like he needed to check she was still breathing.
"You're still in your dress," he said quietly.
Maya let out a humorless laugh. "Well, I didn't exactly get to use it."
Julian stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he said nothing. He just looked at her, carefully, almost too carefully.
Then: "Maya… I'm sorry."
She turned away quickly. "Don't. I don't want your sympathy."
"It's not sympathy," he said, a deeper shift in his voice. "It's anger."
She froze a little. "Anger?"
"Yes." Julian's jaw flexed. "At him. At Lena. At the disaster they've created. This isn't just betrayal. It's public humiliation."
She blinked, trying to keep herself steady. "I know."
"No," he corrected, stepping closer. "You don't understand the scale yet. My brother—" he exhaled sharply, "—has ruined more than your wedding. He's exploded the family reputation. News outlets already picked up the story. Investors are calling me nonstop."
Ah. Yes. The billionaire world. Where even heartbreak has financial consequences.
Maya sat slowly, her knees finally giving up. "So you came to talk about business?"
"No." Julian kneels in front of her—an action so unexpected she forgot to breathe. "I came because I know you're going to do something stupid next."
Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
"Like forgive him."
Maya scoffed loudly.
"Most people in your position would," he continued. "Take him back for image. Pretend it never happened. Patch the scandal."
"Julian," she whispered, "I'm done with him."
He studied her expression. "For certain?"
"Absolutely."
His eyes darkened in approval. "Good."
Good? Why good?
Before she could ask, a knock interrupted again. A wedding assistant poked her head in.
"Ms. Rowan? Your… your husband left this." She placed an envelope on the table and quickly retreated.
Maya didn't reach for it. She didn't need to. The handwriting was familiar. Arrogant. Careless. The same handwriting that used to write I love you in sticky notes on the fridge.
I'm sorry. Please understand. It just happened.
—Evan
Julian took the letter before she could touch it. He tore it in half. Then in half again. Then into useless pieces.
Maya inhaled sharply. "You didn't have to—"
"Yes," he said firmly, "I did."
Silence stretched.
Her eyes drifted to the window. Outside, guests were still leaving. Whispers, gossip, pity.
She hated pity.
"I want a divorce," she said suddenly.
Julian didn't react with surprise. "Good."
"There's nothing left to salvage," Maya whispered. "He made his choice. Now I'll make mine."
Julian stood and straightened his tuxedo. "Then let's end this properly."
"Properly?"
"Yes." He grabbed the discarded veil from the floor and placed it gently on the table. "If Evan didn't respect you as a wife, then he doesn't deserve the right to call himself your husband. We divorce him cleanly, quickly, and publicly."
Maya's brows lifted. "Publicly?"
Julian's eyes sharpened. "You want strength? This is strength. You don't walk away in shame—you walk away in power."
A long silence.
Maya slowly nodded.
For the first time since the ceremony, she felt like she could breathe.
Julian pulled out his phone. "My lawyers are already on standby. I'll have the documents drafted within the hour."
She frowned. "Why are you doing all this for me?"
A strange flicker crossed his eyes. Something unreadable. Something intense.
"Because," Julian said quietly, "my brother didn't just lose a wife today. He lost the only good thing he ever had."
The words hit her harder than she expected.
"Julian…"
"Get changed," he said. "I'll wait outside. When you're ready, we'll go finalize everything."
He walked out before she could say anything else.
The room fell silent again.
Maya slowly stood, looking at her reflection one more time. She reached up and pulled the tiara from her head, letting her curls fall freely.
Then she whispered to her reflection:
"This ends today. And I'm not breaking."
For the first time since the wedding collapsed, she felt something powerful rise inside her—
Not heartbreak.
Not anger.
But rebirth.
Today she wouldn't leave as a bride.
She would leave as a woman who refuses to be destroyed.