Chapter 3 - THE BRIDE’S SHOCK
Clara stopped dead in her tracks midway across the vibrant green lawn, her stunning blush pink lace dress rustling softly.
The radiant, confident smile that had graced her lips just moments ago vanished into a mask of utter confusion.
She blinked against the bright afternoon sunlight, struggling to process the impossible words that had just escaped Damon’s mouth.
"Canceled?" she whispered to herself, the acoustic wedding march still echoing faintly in her disoriented mind.
She looked toward the altar, expecting him to laugh, to step forward and confess it was some bizarre, mistimed joke.
Instead, his face was carved from stone, pale and ravaged by a torment she couldn't begin to understand.
Her bridesmaids behind her began to murmur anxiously, the illusion of their fairy-tale wedding evaporating into thin air.
May you like
Clara clutched her bridal bouquet tighter, her knuckles turning white as a cold wave of panic washed over her skin.
"Damon, what are you talking about?" she finally called out, her voice cracking with vulnerable, mounting dread.
