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The guests from the groom’s side stand awkwardly. My gaze catches those of Erik’s parents, the embarrassment in their eyes, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad for them.
I have nothing in me at this moment. I feel numb. It is as if somebody sucked my soul out and I am just an empty shell. My chest hurts, and I just want to collapse on the altar.
Nobody comes forward to congratulate me. I watch the guests file out quietly.
“Charlotte.” It is Mrs. Mason, Erik’s mother, and I find myself cringing away from her. She looks horrified. “Charlotte, I had no idea! Please, my dear, you have to believe me.”
I shake my head, my body shaking now, my eyes burning. Philip pulls me into his hard body, not caring how it looks, his words curt.
“Please leave. Your son has done enough damage today.”
Mr. Mason looks from Philip to me, regret and anger in his eyes, and then he lowers his head, his voice rough.
“We are both sorry, Charlotte.”
As they move away, I stare at the empty room.
Feeling Philip’s arm around my waist, his chest to my back, I can’t bear it. And I pull away, stumbling out through the side door. He doesn’t try to stop me, and I am glad for that.
I don’t want to think of Erik right now.
I didn’t want to think at all, right now.
I stand at the entrance of the bride’s dressing room, and I recall walking out of here not long ago, so thrilled. Now, it just seems like a distant memory.
Tearing the small crown of flowers from my head, I toss them to the ground.
My dress is next, and I struggle to undo the zip when I hear the click of the lock, before a pair of hands takes the zipper and moves it down.
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. I don’t care that he is in the room. I feel safe with him.
I let the dress pool around my feet and, clad only in my underwear and bra, I frantically start looking around the room for the clothes I was wearing when I arrived.
Philip is as quiet as a ghost.
“What do you need?”
“M-my dress. Blue. It’s blue.” My voice is shaking so badly that I don’t know what to do.
He hands me the dress and I slide into it. Then I stand there blindly, not knowing what to do next.
“Here,” Philip grasps my hand and takes me to the seat in front of the vanity and forces me into it, “Sit.” A small flask appears in his hands and he thrusts it into mine. “This will help. Drink.”
I obey immediately.
The burning liquid rushes down my throat, making me gasp.
He takes the flask back from me, and on hearing the knock on the door, he opens it to let a pale-faced Agatha and the priest in. The priest looks worried as he hands me some documents.
“Are you sure about this, child?” I swallow and nod. He sighs. “Sign here, then. And on the next page.”
I don’t know what I am signing, but my hand moves on its own accord. I might be signing my death certificate at this moment – not that I care.
Philip also signs the papers and then tells Agatha, “Have the marriage announced in the papers immediately. Handle this.”
Maybe that is the point I start coming out of my shock.
“W-what?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “What are you doing?” Philip gives me a calm look.
