Divorce After Wedding Fiasco

I escaped into the ladies' room and splashed my face with cold water, finally starting to feel a bit more composed. A moment later, Raven Gilbert pushed the door open and stepped in. She stood beside me, washing her hands and touching up her makeup. "Clark and I have been in love since high school," she said, her voice casual yet cutting. "We promised each other we’d go from prom dresses to wedding gowns. We're thirty-three now; we’ve reached a point where we don't want any regrets."

"You two have been married for seven years but never had a real wedding," she continued, her tone dripping with sweet venom. "And now he's giving me one right in front of you. I’d be worried if I were you, afraid jealousy might drive you insane."

It felt like someone was squeezing my heart in a vice. I replied, my voice raspy, "Clark always said you were pure and kind, untainted by the world's cynicism. Does he know how skillfully you can hit where it hurts?"

"But I’m not the one causing your pain," Raven said with a faint smile. "If you want to avoid hurting, here’s some advice: either let go of his hand or hold onto his heart."

I stood there, momentarily stunned, as if her words had reached straight into my core. It was like a fog lifted, the sun breaking through after a storm.

As I stepped out of the restroom, I saw Clark down the hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting for someone.

"She’s still inside, changing," I said automatically, assuming he was waiting for Raven.

Clark hesitated, then furrowed his brow. "Don’t be upset," he said quickly. "I’ll try to take some time off work. Maybe we can finally take that vacation this year, okay?"

Before I could respond, his gaze suddenly locked onto something behind me. His normally calm eyes now sparkled with surprise.

I turned to see Raven emerging, dressed in an exquisite Victorian-style gown, gracefully lifting its hem as she walked. She didn’t have to say a word. Clark immediately strode over to her, offering his arm.

They left me standing there, walking together toward the wedding ceremony.

Flora, the bride, appeared from the dressing room, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions as she looked at me. "Watching your husband marry his first love right before your eyes—how do you stay so composed?"

"It’s not about being composed," I replied, my gaze fixed on Clark and Raven as they walked away. "I attended this ceremony to find out something."

Watching them disappear down the aisle, I felt an unexpected calm. "Now I know. He never truly loved me."