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“Come on, Lily.” The voice is gentle.
Meg, my always-steady rock, her butter-blond hair a halo in the daylight. She’s by my side in an instant, her arm slipping around my waist.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she murmurs.
The other bridesmaids join her, forming a protective circle around me. Their presence is a comfort, a reminder that not everything has crumbled to pieces.
“Everyone’s looking,” I manage to say, the words catching in my throat.
“Then let them look somewhere else.” Bethany sniffs and keeps walking.
They are my shield, my guard against the sea of faces that seem to blur together. They guide me away, my feet moving of their own accord.
Each step feels like walking through wet cement, heavy and sinking deeper into a reality I never imagined could be mine. We move past rows of white chairs, past strewn rose petals that now feel more like the remnants of a dream than part of a celebration.
“Is this really happening?” I ask no one in particular.
How can I possibly make sense of this? If Rick didn’t want to marry me, why didn’t he just tell me earlier? Preferably before embarrassing me in front of hundreds of people.
We make our way around the house, toward the black limousine that Rick and I were supposed to leave the wedding in. Now it reminds me more of a hearse than anything else.
“In there.” Meg points at it.
I start to protest but then glance over my shoulder and see the throng of people behind us, mine and Rick’s mothers leading the charge.
My stomach drops. They’re the last people I want to talk to right now. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but I feel like they’re going to blame me for Rick fleeing the scene.
“Let’s go.” I nearly dive into the back of the limo, my three bridesmaids following close behind.
I slump against the seat and toss my bouquet onto the floor. Everything feels like a joke now, and I want to tear this wedding dress off my limbs.
“Lock the door,” Meg instructs, and Anna does so.
“Are you okay?” Meg asks, her hand reaching out to hover over mine, tentative as if she fears I might shatter at the touch.
I want to answer, but it’s like I’m frozen. I don’t know how to find the words. Honestly, I’m having trouble comprehending what just happened.
And why it happened.
Am I really not good enough for Rick? Am I that worthless? That broken?
In the half year that we’ve been dating, he never gave any indication that he wanted to break up. He seemed perfectly fine with me, even if most of his free time was spent at the club or out sailing with friends.
What afternoons and evenings we had together were good, though, and when our parents sat us down over brunch and strongly suggested we marry, he seemed all about it.
That “strong suggestion” was more like an order, yes. Both our families saw a marriage between Rick and I as extremely advantageous, a union that would protect both of our bloodlines. Separate, each of our families is powerful, but together, we would be a true force to be reckoned with.
And, though I wasn’t crazy in love with Rick, I respected him. He’s a good man, and he would make a good father one day.
Tears fill my eyes at the memory of the deepest reason I showed up today.
If I can’t have fairy-tale love, at least I can have children — a desire that means more to me than I can even express. It’s so dear to my heart that I hardly ever talk about it. Most people don’t even know what being a mother would mean to me.
“Sweetie, talk to us.” Bethany touches my hand.
How could Rick humiliate me like this? The question ricochets through my mind, a bullet without a target. Shame burns through my veins, igniting every nerve ending with the agonizing reality that I’ve been abandoned at the threshold of my new life.
“Rick is… He’s…” I try to defend him, to find an excuse, but the sentence dies on my lips, a testament to the truth we all know but are too kind to voice. Rick’s absence speaks louder than any words ever could.
