Storms {z.m.}

Chapter 63 (Finale)

(I'm gonna keep this note short and sweet, but I'll probably publish a whole chapter of just thoughts and answers to all your questions. Comment and vote, please enjoy the grand finale of Storms :,) xx -F)

Chapter 63 - Christine

I run to my left and try not to think about the negative repercussions of my actions. I'm putting a stop to this wedding, and that's a good thing. I tell myself that over and over as I run towards Andrew, almost as if I'm trying to convince myself.

"Typical Christine; choosing some guy over her girlfriends," Poppy calls out from behind me. Her words feel like a harsh whip to my back and almost knock me forward, but I manage to stay on my feet. Suddenly, the point of this whole "game" makes sense. In her mind, she's recreating the scenario in which I chose to sleep with her ex-boyfriend even though I knew Poppy still had feelings for him. Clearly, her perception of the events that happened that night is wrong, though.

As Andrew hands me Poppy's iPhone I can't shake off a the thought that although her statement may not apply to my situation with her ex, it does apply to my situation with Liya.

Andrew opens the door and I enter the familiar room, with its champagne-colored walls and delicate chandelier hanging proud directly above the officiant's podium.

"If anyone has reasons why these two should not be wedded, speak now or forever hold your peace," the officiant, a stocky woman with black bob haircut, says. This immediately gives my body a surge of adrenaline and before I know it I'm shouting.

"Stop!" I shout as I walk down the aisle. Everyone turns around to face me, most faces bearing a horrified look of surprise as they look me up and down. I'm suddenly aware of how soaked my dress is, and how my hair is still matted to my shoulders. I try to avert their eyes and look straight ahead, at an intrigued-looking officiant as I'm stepping forward, small beads of water falling in my trail. I look to the left of the stocky lady, and see the bridesmaids and Perrie, her face contorted in anger and her chest heaving with fury. If looks could kill, she would breathe fire and roast me alive. I look at Zayn's groomsmen and they all look confused and upset, except for Louis. He looks...relieved?

That's when I look to the right and finally let my eyes settle on Zayn. I get lightheaded at the mere sight of him, but after I'm able to walk in a straight line again I start to take in every inch of Zayn's body, from the darkness of his hair completely slicked back, except for a single long strand that reaches down and brushes his cheek seductively, to the black tuxedo that he's wearing over a black shirt. I follow the contours of his body down to his tight, black pants as they trace the line of his thin legs into his black wingtips. Once I get to the bottom, I allow myself to look him over, bottom to top this time, taking in anything I may have missed, like his tattooed, shaking hands, and the way all of the blood leaves his face as I walk up to where they are standing.

I pass by Liya, a look of triumph displayed on her face. If only she knew the sacrifice I had to make in order to be here at this moment, she may not look so victorious. I hope she can forgive me for this one day.

"You have a reason why this couple should not be wedded?" the woman at the podium says. Her beady eyes examine me from over the rim of her reading glasses.

"I have several," I say. I'm less than ten feet from Perrie's quaking body and I can't help but feel like she may lunge at me any moment and claw my face off.

"Very well," she says, looking from Perrie to Zayn, then back to Perrie. They're not looking at her though, they're looking at me.

The look on Perrie's face is pure hatred, but the look on Zayn's is a bit harder to figure out. There is a strong portion of fear in there, but there's also a tender shade of love in his eyes, and the way he's looking at me, his pupil slightly eclipsed by the strand of hair falling from his forehead, tells me that he's glad I spoke up. Still, I can't help but be taken aback by the transparent shade of pale he's turned, as if he wanted to just crawl into the floor and never be seen again.