The Promotion

Chapter Thirty-Five

Standing outside the venue, I watched the waiters weave in and out of the entrance, trays balanced expertly in their hands. Decorators adjusted floral arrangements, stepped back, frowned, adjusted again. Everything moved with purpose—everything except me.

I stood still, rooted to the spot, watching time move forward without me.

I had always imagined my wedding day differently. I thought I'd be rushing around, heart pounding with excitement, nerves buzzing in a good way. I imagined laughter, champagne, a flurry of last-minute chaos. Instead, I felt like an observer in my own life, watching something unfold that I hadn't quite agreed to.

The venue was modest but beautiful—set just outside the city, surrounded by greenery that muffled the usual noise of traffic and urgency. We'd wanted something small, intimate. Just close friends, close family. Something calm.

The air was crisp and clean, the kind that filled your lungs and made you believe—just for a moment—that everything might be okay. I inhaled deeply, letting the coolness settle in my chest.

For a second, there was peace.

Then the ache returned.

I wasn't calm. I wasn't ready. I was standing on the edge of a decision that felt permanent and wrong, trying to convince myself that it would hurt less if I just stepped forward and didn't look down.

I dragged my feet inside.

The entrance hall opened up into a grand staircase that led to the main room. The wooden floors creaked faintly beneath my steps, adding to the rustic charm of the place. Cream-coloured walls were lined with paintings—soft landscapes in brown frames, all warm tones and gentle brushstrokes. They felt like scenes from someone else's life. Someone else's happiness.

At the top of the stairs, I paused.

The main hall took my breath away.

Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, draped with garlands of pink, white, and cream flowers that cascaded delicately from one to the next. Rows of white chairs flanked a petal-strewn aisle, leading to a wall completely covered in roses. Fairy lights were woven through it, glowing softly, like something out of a dream.

It was beautiful.

Painfully so.

At the far side of the room, bartenders prepared drinks, lining glasses neatly along the tables. I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to grab one and down it—just to quiet my thoughts, just to make this feel less sharp.

But I didn't.

Instead, I pulled my phone from my bag.

Nothing.

No message. No missed call.

Alexander hadn't reached out.

The disappointment hit harder than I expected, settling like a stone in my chest. I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to turn away before my eyes betrayed me.

I headed for the bridal suite.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw my dress hanging there—waiting for me. White. Perfect. Untouched.

"Oh—you're here."

I turned to see Sarah slipping into the room, breathless, my dress slung over her arm. She looked flustered, her cheeks slightly flushed, eyes darting around like her mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Where were you?" I asked, studying her carefully.

"Just had something to sort out," she replied too quickly.