It was as if someone had poured cold water over her.
Zareal stood at the altar, watching the last of the guests disappear toward the parking area. The scraping of chairs had stopped. The murmur of voices had faded. Even the staff were finishing their work quickly, efficiently, as if they couldn't wait to leave this place.
She took in a huge gulp of air, trying to force it past the tightness in her chest.
Her thoughts kept circling back, refusing to let her move forward.
Her legs felt unsteady beneath her. The pain in her hip had spread, radiating up her spine and down through her knee. She'd been standing for far too long. Making her stagger slightly.
The world tilted at the edges, with her vision beginning to blur.
A hand caught her elbow before she could fall. Steady. Quick.
"Mrs. Sterling." Nadine's voice, soft with concern. "Are you alright?"
Zareal nodded, though she was anything but. She leaned heavily on her cane, trying to redistribute her weight, trying to breathe through the wave of pain and humiliation and something darker that she didn't want to name.
"I'm fine."... she said, the lie tasted like ash in her mouth.
But nadine didn't argue. She just kept her hand on Zareal's elbow.
Still by the pathway, Hester stood watching. She made no effort to hide her satisfaction. didn't even pretend to look sympathetic. Just watched with those cold eyes and that small, cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She seemed to be enjoying every bit of it.
The thought should have sparked something hot and defensive in Zareal's chest. Anger, maybe Indignation.
But she felt nothing. Just a vast, empty numbness spreading through her.
"I need a moment," Zareal said quietly to Nadine. "Alone."
But nadine hesitated, her grip on Zareal's elbow now tightening slightly.
"Are you sure, ma'am? I can stay close by if you need—"
"Please. Just a moment." Zareal repeated, now sounding firm.
Nadine's hand slowly released. "I'll be by the car when you're ready."
She walked away, leaving Zareal truly alone for the first time since this disaster had begun over an hour ago.
Zareal turned away from the altar. Away from the empty chairs and wilted flowers and the space where Ranulf should have been standing. She walked slowly, each step deliberate and careful, her cane tapping against the stone pathway.
Near the cliff edge, where the land dropped away to meet the sea, Zareal found a weathered stone bench, and lowered herself onto it carefully.
Urgh"... she let out a groan, as her hip screamed in protest.
She could see the ocean stretched out endlessly and the waves crashing with a rhythmic violence before her. A sound that should have been soothing but felt more like mockery.
The sun was sinking now, bleeding orange and pink, the golden hour Vespera had planned for. The perfect lighting for photographs that would never be taken.
It was beautiful, and at the same time devastating
Now she reached into the little pocket carved out in her gown and pulled out the folded paper she'd been carrying all evening. Her vows.
Which she'd spent three evenings writing. crossing out words, rewriting sentences, trying to find the perfect way to say "I still seem to love you".
She unfolded the paper slowly. The words stared back at her in her own careful handwriting.
"Ranulf,
I know this year has been hard. I know you didn't choose this marriage. Neither did I, not really. Not the way it happened.
But I'm choosing you now. I'm choosing to believe that the man I met is still somewhere inside the CEO who walks past me in hallways. I'm choosing to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to something real.
And I'm choosing us.
Always,
Zareal"
A tear escaped her eyes as they rolled down her cheek and unto the sheet. It was as if the ground should open and just swallow her instantly.
Reading the words now, felt insanely foolish and naive. It was like the desperate plea of a woman who didn't understand that some things, once broken, couldn't be repaired with carefully chosen words.
"I'm choosing us".
But there was no us. There had never been an us. Just a contract signed in a hospital room while she was still processing trauma and medical bills and the loss of everything she'd built.
She folded the paper carefully and slipped it back.
Behind her, the lighthouse beam now flickered on, cutting through the deepening dusk. The sky had shifted from orange to purple to something darker.
Her phone sat in her lap, silent
She picked it up and checked one more time.
No calls, no messages, nothing.
The ocean had no answers, and the stars were now beginning to appear overhead, distant and cold.
"Mrs. Sterling?"
Nadine's voice came from behind her.
Zareal didn't turn around, she just kept staring at the horizon where the sun had been.
"Did you ever believe in something so hard," zareal said quietly, "that you forgot to notice it was already gone?"
Nadine was silent for a moment. Then, gently, "Yes, ma'am. I have."
Zareal finally stood, her body protesting every movement. tucking her phone as well into the pocket, fitting slightly.
"Let's go home."
The word felt like a lie. But she said it anyway.
The walk back to the car felt longer than it should have. Each step deliberate, the tap of her cane against stone marking time. The staffs had finished packing. The chairs were gone, the flowers were gone and the altar stood empty, as if the ceremony had never been planned at all.
Nadine opened the car door. Zareal slid into the back seat, grateful to finally sit in a way that didn't make her hip scream.
The car pulled away from the lighthouse, and Zareal watched the ocean disappear through the rear window. The driver said nothing. He never did. Just drove in that smooth, professional way that made her feel like cargo being transported.
The car drifted down union street toward the quiet edges of the city of eveshore, while she sat in the backseat, as the city lights blurred past.
She leaned her head against the window. The glass was cool on her temple, giving a small relief to the heat building behind her eyes.
Home, back to the mansion where he won't be. Back to the bed I sleep in alone.
The tightness in her chest hadn't eased. If anything, it had gotten worse, like someone had wrapped their hands around her ribs and was squeezing slowly, methodically, making each breath something she had to work for.
And then, traffic began to slow suddenly.
The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then forward again. His hands shifted slightly on the wheel.
Ahead, red and blue lights strobed against the buildings. The sharp, urgent flashing that meant something bad had happened.
"Accident," the driver said. as his brows furrowed,
But zareal said nothing. she just watched the lights grow brighter as they crept forward, trapped in the line of cars trying to get past whatever disaster was blocking the street.
Indeed it was an accident. and for that moment, she had forgotten she was supposed to be gloomy, as memories and flashbacks wanted to start rushing in.
she wondered what that person might be feeling right now, the excruciating pain they might be in. because funny enough, she was once in such situation twelve months ago, everything that had led her down to this very moment.
It was as if she would puke right that moment.
They got closer and the scene was beginning to get clearer.
Two ambulances had arrived at the scene. one crouched at an awkward angle across two lanes, its rear doors gaping open while its siren pulsed in sharp, whining bursts that cut through the night.
Police cruisers flanked it, their lights spinning red-blue halos over everything as officers in reflective vests shouted directions, funneling cars into a single tight squeeze of road.
Ahead, bits of twisted metal stuck up from the wreck like the remains of something that had been yanked apart hours ago, not freshly broken.
Shattered glass was scattered far down, spread out like someone had tossed handfuls of it as they walked. The streetlights and the flashing sirens kept catching on the pieces, making them flicker and glow in uneven patches, more like a messy trail of stars than anything deliberate.
They moved closer, inch by inch. The flashing lights now painted the inside of the car in alternating blue and red, and there it was, she saw it.
The black luxury sedan. The front end crumpled, folded in on itself like paper against a concrete barrier.
The driver's side door hanged open. steam rising from under the hood. It started to get familiar.
She leaned forward, pressing closer to the window, her breath fogging the glass.
The license plate, she needed to see the license plate.
Her heart skipping faster as the traffic inched forward and closer, and then, the plate came into view.
Instantly, her heart stopped.
STRLNG 1.
The vanity plate Vespera had commissioned last year. Sterling 1. Because of course his mother would make his license plate about the family name.
His car. it was indeed ranulf's car, that was wrapped around a concrete barrier.
Glass everywhere. The other ambulance had paramedics load someone onto it, and had already taken off.
"Oh my god," the driver breathed.
But Zareal barely heard him.
Her hand was already on the door handle, pulling, shoving it open before the car had fully stopped.
"Ma'am, wait—"..
Oops, it was too late.