The Promotion

Chapter Thirty-Seven

There was nothing magical about the wedding hall.

Nothing sacred. Nothing warm. Nothing that whispered this is where your life begins.

I stood at the altar, wrapped in white lace and expectation, yet I felt completely removed from it all—like I was watching someone else's wedding from behind a pane of glass. The chandeliers above blurred into soft halos. The murmured voices, the rustle of fabric, the subtle scrape of chairs against the floor—it all sounded distant, distorted.

The officiant's voice floated through the space, calm and practiced, but it barely registered. Her words reached my ears and dissolved before my mind could hold onto them.

I looked out at the guests.

Smiling faces. Proud parents. Friends leaning toward one another with quiet excitement. They saw a bride about to begin a new chapter. They had no idea that my heart was splintering with every second that passed. That I was standing here because I chose safety over truth. Stability over love.

Calum stood in front of me, beaming.

This—this—was the happiest day of his life.

He squeezed my hands gently, grounding me in the moment. But the contact did nothing. There was no spark. No warmth. Just the echo of something that used to exist.

Not like Alexander.

With Alexander, even the smallest touch had felt alive—like warmth seeped straight into my veins.

"I, Calum Harris," he began confidently, his voice steady, "take you, Louisa Watts, to be my wife..."

Each word landed like a weight on my chest.

"To have and to hold, from this day forward—"

I stared at his lips as they moved, my thoughts drifting far from the vows being spoken. I saw Alexander's face instead—hurt, raw, resolute as he walked away from me.

Calum slid the ring onto my finger.

The band felt cold.

Heavy.

Wrong.

Now it was my turn.

"Louisa," the officiant prompted kindly. "Repeat after me."

I didn't respond.

Calum squeezed my hands again, subtly this time.

"Louisa?" he whispered.

I blinked, the room snapping back into focus.

"I—Louisa Watts," I started weakly.

"Take you, Calum Harris—"

I inhaled.

"Take you... Alex—Calum!"

The word rang out like a gunshot.

The silence that followed was deafening.

A collective gasp rippled through the room. I felt every pair of eyes land on me, felt heat rush to my face as my heart slammed violently against my ribs.

Calum froze.

Slowly, painfully, he searched my face.

"Were you about to say Alexander?" he asked quietly.

My mouth opened. Closed. Panic clawed up my throat.

"No— I mean— he was here earlier and I—"

"Louisa," Calum interrupted gently, though his voice trembled. "Is there something going on between you two?"