The soft chords of the wedding march echoed through the grand hall, each note
stretching her nerves tighter beneath her painted smile. Amara took her first step down the aisle, the hem of her ivory gown brushing against the white petals scattered across the floor like unspoken promises.
Her heart pounded—not in excitement, not even in fear. Just a quiet resignation. She had practiced this moment in her head, trained her face to carry the right expression. Calm. Content. Convincing. She wasn't faking it, not really. She was... accepting it.
Because deep down, she knew. This was always how it was going to end. She wasn't the kind of girl who got swept away by a great, wild love. She was the kind who
made practical choices. And if she was going to spend her life with someone,
she was grateful it was with Lorenzo. He was good, kind in his own ways, and gentle when he wanted to be.
Her gaze swept over the sea of faces, mostly blurs, barely registering through the
tension. Aimee and Alexis gave her small smiles—her anchors in this dizzying day. Her parents, teary and proud. Don Manuelo with that same smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Beside him is Lorenzo, waiting at the altar, handsome in his suit, the corners of his lips twitching upward.
And then she saw a very familiar face.
Frozen mid-step, Amara's breath caught like a hook in her chest.
There, among the crowd, in a tailored suit and standing tall with that unmistakable
confidence.
She blinked.
Recognition set in.
Her stomach dropped.
No… it couldn't be.
The same jawline. The familiar eyes. That calm, confident way of standing.
The one that got away.
The one she had tried so hard to forget, and failed miserably every time.
Amara's heart skipped violently.
Sophia?
Her mind raced. Why was she here? Who invited her? This couldn't be a coincidence—Sophia, her ex. Her almost. Her what-if. Her once-upon-a-time.
Sophia's eyes met hers—just for a split second—but it was enough. The air thickened, her vision blurred, and the weight of memory came crashing down like a wave. The smoky bar. That night. That touch. That kiss. The warmth. The heartbreak. The sudden silence that followed.
But now, here she was.
At Amara's wedding.
Watching her walk down the aisle.
And then, like a thunderclap, it hit her.
She remembered how familiar Lorenzo was when she first met him at that club, how she kept on thinking about him even the next day and how she couldn't forget his eyes. That familiar eyes.
And now, she knew why.
Her gaze snapped between Sophia and Lorenzo.
Her brain connected the dots with horrifying clarity.
Sophia is... Lorenzo's sister?
The floor beneath her shifted. She stopped in her tracks, breath caught in her throat. A chorus of whispers trickled through the crowd. Her bouquet trembled in her hands.
This wasn't just a strange twist of fate. This was a nightmare she hadn't even thought to prepare for.
She had tried so hard to forget Sophia. Tried to seal that part of herself away in a locked room labeled "the past."
But the past, as always, had a way of walking straight into the present—uninvited and unavoidable.