For six years, I had given him everything my heart, my dreams, my time, my very self. I believed in him more than I believed in myself. Every promise, every whispered "I love you," every shared glance felt like a thread weaving our future together. I thought tomorrow, on our wedding day, we would finally close that chapter and step into a life we had dreamed of.
I had dressed for that future, wearing a dress that hugged me in all the right ways, my hair pinned with delicate pearls that caught the morning sun. The estate felt impossibly silent as I walked through its marble halls, every step echoing with anticipation. My stepsister, Lina, stood at the end of the corridor, smiling in that sweet, familiar way I had once adored. But something in the air felt off a tension I could not name.
Aaron, my fiancé, was waiting. Calm. Collected. Smiling. But when he spoke, the words were sharp as broken glass.
"I… I can't marry you tomorrow," he said, his voice deliberate, calm, almost rehearsed.
I stopped. My heartbeat skipped. "What do you mean?" My voice was steady, though I felt ice crawling along my spine.
"I have to marry Lina first," he said, avoiding my eyes. "It's her last wish. She's sick. Once I grant her this, I'll come back to you."
The words hit me like a hammer. My chest tightened. My legs trembled. The world blurred. Betrayal, lies, deception it all came rushing in at once. I had loved him. Trusted him. Believed in him. And yet, in the span of a single breath, he had erased all of it. He smiled at Lina as though my existence were irrelevant, as though the past six years had meant nothing.
I laughed, sharp and bitter, the sound hollow and shaking. "You'll come back?" I spat, voice thick with anger and incredulity. "Do you really expect me to wait while you play the hero for someone else?"
Aaron's face fell slightly, but it did not reach his eyes. My family, however, had not moved. Not a single word of defense, not a hand stretched out to steady me. They had taken my years of loyalty, my sacrifices, and discarded me like a broken vase. The cold silence was worse than words.
For a moment, I felt my world collapse. I wanted to scream, to throw myself at him, to rage and weep. But as the initial wave of betrayal subsided, a strange, icy calm took over. The fire that had always been hidden inside me the determination, the anger, the ambition I felt it stirring. They thought they had destroyed me. They were wrong.
I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and turned toward the door. Rain had begun to fall outside, the droplets splashing against the marble steps. Cold, wet, and unforgiving—the weather mirrored my soul. But unlike the rain, I would not bend. I would not break. They would see the woman they had tried to bury rise from the ashes, stronger than ever.
As I walked away, I made a silent promise to myself: Aaron would regret this. Lina would regret this. And my family, who had turned their backs, would see the consequences of underestimating me.
This was only the beginning.