Chapter 13
The murmurs didn’t stop. The once-admiring glances now turned cold and pitying.
Morinne Ayla could feel it-all of it. Her face turned ghostly pale. She looked utterly wretched.
The pristine white wedding gown now felt like a cruel joke, mocking her with every breath she took.
Even the flower boy, still holding the diamond ring box, hesitated at the edge of the stage, unsure whether he should step
forward or retreat.
The celebrant glanced at Morinne, his voice cautious.
“Miss Ayla… should we proceed? Or perhaps… perhaps you’d like to try calling Mr. Lowell back?”
The words were like a slap to the face. Every ounce of dignity she had left was stripped away in that moment.
Continue? How?
With a furious sob, Morinne teared off her veil and flung it to the ground. Gripping the heavy skirt of her gown, she turned
and fled down the aisle, tears streaming down her face.
As she passed the flower boys, she didn’t forget to snatch the wedding rings from their hands-still clinging to whatever
shred of fantasy she had left.
But the layered fabric tangled around her legs, and within moments, she tripped and tumbled to the ground.
The beautiful, radiant bride-just moments ago the center of everyone’s envy-was now sprawled in the dirt.
Even so, she stubbornly slid the bride’s ring onto her own finger, forcing it down until it sat snugly on her left hand.
“Ha… I’m married now. I am Mrs. Lowell. I married Alexander today…”
Morinne’s voice cracked between laughter and sobs, staring at the other ring that no one’s wearing-the groom’s.
The one that would never have a matching finger. The wedding she had meticulously planned… ruined.
Just one step away-one step-and she would have officially become Mrs. Lowell, the woman everyone envied, admired,
and bowed to.
But now…
“Cynthia Aquil.., this is what you wanted, isn’t it?! He went after you-are you satisfied now? Are you satisfied?!” Her scream was hoarse, hysterical, her tears almost tinged with blood.
At that very moment, just as Alexander stepped out of the hotel, a deliveryman hurried up to him.
“Excuse me-Are you Mr. Lowell? A package for you. Please sign here.”
He took the package without hesitation.
The sender’s name caught his eye Cynthia Aquil.
“I’m Alexander Lowell,” he muttered, grabbing the box.
He tore it open in seconds-hands trembling.
A card rested at the top.
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“Wishing Uncle Alex and Aunt Morinne a lifetime of happiness. May your love last forever.”
The handwriting was hers-graceful, neat, and unmistakably sincere.
His fingers trembled.
So polite. So distant. Just like that, she had drawn the final line between them.
She had really, truly let go. She had meant every word on that card.
And for a moment, Alexander couldn’t breathe.
This is what you wanted, he reminded himself. You spent years trying to push her away. You wanted her to stop loving
you.
But now that she had… There was no joy. No relief.
Only pain-blinding, suffocating pain.
A deep, suffocating ache bloomed in his chest, radiating through every vein, spreading down his arms to his fingertips.
He stared at the image on his phone screen-Cynthia and Nathan, exchanging rings. Smiling. Together.
A pair of crystal couple’s pendants lay inside the box, nestled in.velvet.
To his eyes, they mocked him. They mocked everything he’d been too afraid to hold on to.
“Cindy…”
He clenched the couple’s pendants in his fists-tight-until they shattered with a crack that echoed in his skull.
The shards sliced into his palms, blood seeping between his fingers. But he didn’t even flinch.
“You shouldn’t have married him, Cindy. He’s not right for you. I’ll find someone else-someone better. You can’t marry
him.”
“My sweetie, you’re waiting for me to pick you up, aren’t you? This joke’s gone far enough. Weddings aren’t something to joke about.”
His voice was hoarse, low, and venom-laced. Every word he spoke was like being carved from stone, grinding through his
teeth.
His eyes were pitch-black, bottomless. Something dangerous flickered behind them.
His expression shifted-once, twice-before twisting into a terrifying smile.
“Cindy… I’m coming to bring you back home.”
Then, without hesitation, he tossed the shattered remains of the couple’s pendants aside-like they were nothing. Like
she-Morrine Ayla-had been.
The pain in his bleeding hands only made him sharper, clearer.
More awake.
And far more determined.
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