photographers would arrive at dawn. Two hundred guests would show up at the Riverside Hotel, phones ready to capture every moment for social media. The venue had a dedicated Instagram wall with their hashtag in gold letters.
But the groom wasn't coming.
He was going to marry her sister instead.
Her phone buzzed continuously with notifications—probably people posting last-minute congratulations, sharing their excitement, building up to tomorrow's big reveal.
She turned off her phone completely.
Then she walked to her bathroom and was sick, her body rejecting everything—the expensive dinner, the hope, the stupid, naive belief that her curated perfect life was actually real.
When there was nothing left, she slumped against the cool marble floor, her silk nightgown soaked with sweat and tears.
