Mirror of Fate

Chapter 2 - The Truth Behind the Veil

Orla:

The silence in the bridal suite was almost oppressive. I glanced around, suddenly aware of how alone I was. My so-called bridesmaids—if I could even call them that—were nowhere to be seen. They had fluttered off hours ago, probably getting ready for the ceremony outside, leaving me in this cavernous room, isolated in the midst of what was supposed to be my special day.

A pang of uncertainty gnawed at me. I stared at the bouquet of flowers on the small table beside me, a beautiful arrangement of white roses and lavender, yet something about it felt... wrong. Were these the flowers I was supposed to carry? I couldn't remember now.

Suddenly the thought of holding the wrong bouquet seemed like the only thing I could focus on.

I needed to find someone—anyone—who could confirm it for me.

I left the suite, the door clicking softly behind me as I stepped into one of the estate's back hallways. It was a secondary corridor, once used by the servants in the olden days, hidden from the grandeur of the main halls. Now, it served as my quiet escape, far from the prying eyes and expectations that weighed so heavily on me.

The corridors were dimly lit, a stark contrast to the brightness outside, and the silence here was even more pronounced, broken only by the faint echo of my footsteps on the marble floor.

As I walked, I felt the oppressive weight of the estate's grandeur pressing down on me. The walls, lined with small portraits of people I didn't know, seemed to close in, their eyes following me as I moved deeper into the maze-like hallways. Everything about this place, this day, felt surreal, like I was a guest in someone else's life, playing a part in a script I hadn't written.

I turned a corner, the light growing dimmer, when I heard it—muffled moans coming from a door slightly ajar. At first, I thought it was just voices, but as I moved closer, the sounds became more distinct, unmistakable. My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me.

Jesus, is someone having sex? At my wedding?

I should have walked away, should have ignored it, but something compelled me to move closer. My hand trembled as I reached for the door, pushing it just enough to peer inside through the narrow crack. The scene that met my eyes was like something out of a nightmare.

There, in a small custodial closet, tangled in the mess of their tryst, was Logan. My Logan. His tuxedo jacket was off, his shirt untucked, and he was knee-deep—literally and figuratively—in one of the bridesmaids. But not just any bridesmaid.

Anna Cho.

Of course, it had to be Anna.

She was lounging back, half-dressed, with her dark hair cascading over Logan's chest, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure, completely unaware of me standing there.

Anna, the one bridesmaid I had never gotten along with, whose passive-aggressive jabs had stung more than I ever let on. Her words had always been barbed, disguised as concern or humor, but there was always that undercurrent of disdain, as if she was waiting for the moment to strike.

Logan had always been oblivious to her remarks, brushing them off as 'just her way.' Now, I could see why.

The pieces fell into place. How many times had I caught her watching him with that smug, self-satisfied smile? How often had she brushed too close to him during the planning, her touches lingering just a little too long? It had all been right in front of me, and I'd been too blinded by the fantasy of this day to see it.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It felt as though I'd left my body entirely, floating somewhere above, watching everything unfold below me like a distant observer—detached, as if this wasn't my life at all but someone else's nightmare. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision, but I couldn't tear them away from the betrayal that was playing out mere feet from where I stood.