The applause faded slowly, like waves pulling back from the shore, but the pressure in Ava's chest only grew heavier.
Damian didn't touch her again, but she could feel him beside her. He was solid, immovable, a shadow she couldn't escape. His hand had left her waist, yet her skin still burned from that brief contact, as if the ghost of his touch clung to her like a brand.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiator announced, "please welcome the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Damian Cross."
The hall erupted once more into soft applause
Ava's stomach dropped as her brain registered the name.
Mrs. Damian Cross.
Her fingers tightened around her bouquet, and for a moment she feared she might crush the delicate roses. The hall was buzzing, clapping, whispers, flashes from cameras, but none of it made sense. It all sounded distant and muffled, like she was underwater. Like she didn't belong here. like she wasn't the bride that everyone had theire curious eyes glued on.
