Renzille drew in a sharp inhale, her fingers tightening around the bouquet in her grasp.
Her gaze remained glued on the altar before her, her breaths came slightly more rapidly, the weight of the moment bearing down on her slender shoulders.
The church was filled with the soft sounds of guests murmuring and the clink of glasses, but Renzille's focus remained solely fixed on the altar.
Slowly, she could feel her heart sink as the memories stirred in the back of her mind, unwelcome and bittersweet, because the very altar before her held a painful memory.
Her gaze lingered on the altar of the so-called goddess of their world, then her mind transported back to the time when Cross stood there in front of her, promising to love and cherish her, only to break her heart after years of marriage.
What broke her the most was his act of unforgivable betrayal.
