Katherine's POV

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, but the girl looking back wasn't me.

The makeup was flawless—light pink champagne shadow traced my lash lines, soft peach blush warmed my cheeks, and dusty rose lipstick curved over my lips in a perfect pout. My brown curls cascaded down my shoulders, a few strands pulled back just right. The white dress, sweeping the floor like a dream, should have taken my breath away.

It was breathtaking.
I wasn't.

Beneath the flawless facade, I could see it. The pale hollows of my cheeks. The cracks in my soul. The unshed tears pooled in the eyes that once held light.

This wasn't how I imagined it.

Today was supposed to be the day—the best day of my life. I was meant to feel joy so powerful it could stop time. Butterflies in my stomach. Trembling anticipation. Counting the seconds until I could say I do to the man I loved more than anything...the man who loved me in return.

I pictured my mother's gentle hands, steadying me as she helped with the dress, her soft laughter warning me not to ruin my makeup. My brother's playful teasing, followed by a bear hug and a quiet whisper telling me I was beautiful. My father, waiting by the door, ready to walk me down the aisle.

Instead, I stood alone.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. The possible what-ifs ruining me yet again. I wiped it away with shaking fingers, desperate not to ruin my perfect mask.

But it was useless. The truth seeped through every crack.

The truth that a man who despised me was waiting on the other side of that door.

The truth that this was no fairy tale—just a cruel, hollow play.

The truth that the people gathered outside were strangers to me.
And I was nothing more than a bride in a borrowed dream.

Old memories clawed their way up from the dark, flashing behind my eyes.

"Mike, leave your sister alone!" Dad's voice, sharp with a warning, echoed from the front seat.

I stuck my tongue out at my brother, smirking in triumph.

"What's with the mood?" Mike grumbled, his eyes narrowing at me from across the car.

I ignored him, turning my head to watch the city blur past.

Mom's gentle voice came next. "Sweetheart, just let her be."

She understood. She always did.

I had come home from school in tears again, my heart too soft for the world's cruelty. She didn't need to ask what happened.

But Mike didn't know when to stop.

I put in my earphones, drowning out his questions, until—

A deafening horn.
Blinding light.
Screams.
Darkness.

I gasped as the memory shattered, ripping me back into the present. My chest heaved, the old familiar pain stealing my breath as tears slipped down my face.

When I looked up, my heart stilled.

He was there.

His reflection stared back at me from the mirror, blue eyes watching with a dark intensity that burned me down to the core.

How long had he been standing there?

I bowed my head, wiping my cheeks quickly, desperate to hide the weakness he'd already seen.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Why?" His voice was low, almost amused as he stepped inside the room, "Because it's bad luck?" He added with a scoff, in utter mockery.

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

"This whole wedding is bad luck. I doubt seeing you now would make it any worse," he said.

The truth struck a nerve.

It wasn't supposed to hurt.

But it did.

Because it mattered.

I turned around to face him, forcing my trembling heart to quiet.

He stepped closer to me, his hands slipping into his front pockets as his eyes roamed all over my face, his gaze flickering with something almost soft, barely even there to catch, before hardening again when they focused their hatred on mine.

"I just need to make one thing clear before this...ceremony," His tone was so cold and clipped. He wasn't the same man I knew over the past year; he couldn't be the same. "This marriage is only on paper. It's not real."

He spoke as though the words were carved from stone.

"You'll have your own room. I'll have mine. Don't expect me to act like a husband, and I won't expect you to act like a wife. I'll do what I want, see who I want, and you won't interfere."

My nails bit into my palms, crescents of pain grounding me as I swallowed the storm inside. The silence before the storm wrapped around me like a noose. This was my choice. My burden. I had walked willingly into the fire, and now I had to bear its burn. I could've fought him—God, I should have. I had the power, the money, the people who would stand with me. I could have raised my head, faced him, and maybe, just maybe, I would have won.

But...but there was so much more at stake here.

Much more than he knows.

And that's the thing, he won't know, I won't let him know. No, never, at least not till it's all over and done.

"This isn't a fairytale, Katherine. There are no flowers, no rainbows." He paused, fire burning beneath the blue of his eyes, a flame he hid all too well, "I'm only doing this for my child. Nothing more."

"He's my child too," I said back, too fast.

He ignored me, his tone though low and neutral, his words kept cutting me deeper, "You're free to do as you please too. I don't and won't care."

My breath caught, but I forced my expression blank. I won't give him the satisfaction of watching me break, not again.

"In front of my family, we'll be a happy couple. Madly in love." He added, the mockery in his voice never missing, waiting for my reaction, but I didn't give him one.

"You'll manage," he added with a nonchalance that cut deeper than anger, "You're such a good liar and manipulator after all. This should be easy."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat burning as it went down. Maybe...maybe he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Is that all?" I whispered, my voice steady, betraying none of the storm inside.

"Pretty much." He said, so casually, as if this entire conversation—this entire marriage—meant nothing.

It meant nothing to him.

I...I meant nothing to him. I should learn that too.

He turned his back on me, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his posture a study of indifference. He paused, shoulders stiffening just slightly before he spoke again.

"As I said...this is just for my child," He didn't even look at me, "Don't think I feel anything for you anymore, Katherine."

Then came the final blow—quiet, lethal, meant to destroy.

"Maybe it's time you tasted your own medicine."

The words were a mere whisper, almost swallowed by the heavy air between us, but I caught every syllable. Each one slid into my weak heart like a dagger, twisting until all that remained was ruin.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The breath I had been holding escaped in a stuttered sob.

I clenched my fists, fighting the storm threatening to break free.

"Don't cry," The words hissed through my clenched teeth, trembling and desperate, "Don't you dare cry!"

The pain swelled—hot, raw, relentless—an unstoppable tide crashing over every wall I had built.

I started this. I chose this.

But God, it hurts. It hurts so bad.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it, choking on the fury instead. With a strangled groan, I reached out, my hand trembling with the weight of every shattered dream, every unspoken word, every ache I had swallowed whole.

The glass exploded beneath my fingers. Bottles tumbled, crashing to the floor. The sharp, jagged shards skittered across the tiles, the chaos spreading like the wreckage inside me.

The noise echoed around me—sharp, violent, broken.

Just like me.

He wouldn't make this easy.

He'd already taken my dreams of a perfect wedding.

And I knew—this was only the beginning of what he would destroy.