The Wrong Bride Returns

Olivia's pov

Two hefty men were standing outside my door. I didn't know either of them. No uniforms, just dark suits. One tall, one wide, standing on either side of my door like they'd been posted there all night waiting for exactly this moment.

"Mr Morgan sent us," the tall one said. Calm, like he was telling me what time it was. "You're needed at the courthouse first thing in the morning. Please go back in and get some rest." He smiled as he pointed at my room signalling me to go back in.

I stepped back. My hand went tight around the bag strap, the handle slick with my own sweat.

"I AM NOT GOING!!!" My voice echoed loudly.

The wide one took one step forward.

"You're going. It's our job to bring you to the courthouse safely. We have prepared your civil outfit. It will be here at 6 am.

Neither of them touched me.

I looked past them. Down the stairs. I imagined the front door. The street. The bus station. Somewhere else. I was foolish. I shouldn't have returned after that meeting. That was a terrible mistake. I might as well have been on the moon. My life was about to take a drastic turn and I couldn't do anything to change it. The cold hit my chest again.

I went back into my room and put the bag on the bed and took everything back out. The jeans, the shirt, the money and put it all back in the drawer. Sat down. The springs creaked. I couldn't sleep. Morning came so fast.

I heard a knock on the door. "It's time." Everything happened so fast.

The courthouse was small and empty. Wooden benches, a judge, a table. No flowers. No music. The judge looked old and tired, like this was just another Tuesday for him.

My father stood by the table with his arms crossed, face blank, not looking at me as I came in.

My mother sat on a bench with her hands folded in her lap. She didn't look either. She seemed to be avoiding me since yesterday.

Jessica wasn't there at all.

Two men were standing in front. Based on their outfit, I couldn't already tell which one was Nathan Hayes. Dark blue suit, expensive looking, tie crooked, hair a mess. His eyes weren't focusing right.

He was drunk. I caught the whiskey smell from across him, sharp and sweet at the same time. He swayed a little on his feet. He blinked slowly like it took effort to open his eyes back up each time.

He looked at me when I walked in and his eyebrows pulled together like he was trying to place me.

"Where's Jessica," he said. The words ran together at the edges.

Nobody answered him.

We were seated and the procedure started. I signed papers.

Then it was over.

Nathan came toward me, stopped a foot away, and really looked at my face for the first time. Green eyes. Brown hair. Nothing like Jessica at all.

"Jessica," he said.

I didn't correct him.

He said it again at the courthouse door. Jessica, car's waiting.

He said it in the car. Jessica, you're being quiet.

He said it that night in a bedroom that wasn't mine, in a house that wasn't mine, in a life that had nothing to do with me at all.

Jessica.

I lay still on silk sheets in a bed big enough for four people, in a room that smelled like whiskey and his cologne and something else I couldn't put a name to.

He was on his back, mouth open, breathing heavy, shoes still on his feet, tie still crooked, shirt half untucked.

Jessica, he mumbled. Then his breathing settled into something even. 

I was twenty-two years old. I had never been kissed. Never been on a date. Never been loved or...wanted...or chosen by anyone, not once, not even a little.

And now I was lying in a stranger's bed. A stranger who'd married me thinking I was someone else.

The door opened.

A woman stood there. Older, her gray hair pulled back, lines on her face, hands that looked like they'd done real work for a long time. She was holding a tray, water, a sandwich, and a small knife. She walked in quietly, and set the tray down on the table by the bed, and looked at me. Her eyes were kind. First kind eyes I'd seen all day.

"This is for you," she said with a wuiet voice. Some kind of accent. "If you need anything."

"Who are you," I said. My voice came out rough. I hadn't talked since the courthouse.

"Mia. I'm the housekeeper." She glanced at Nathan, passed out with his shoes still on. "He isn't usually like this."

"I wouldn't know," I said. "I don't know him at all."

She looked at me properly then. My green eyes. My brown hair. My face that I had clearly been crying for hours.

"You're Jessica," she said.

"No. I mean. Yyes." I said hurriedly, nodding my head.

She nodded slowly.

"Eat something," she said. "You'll need it."

She left, and the door closed soft behind her.

I sat up and looked at the tray. The sandwich. The water. The little silver knife.

I was starving. I hadn't eaten properly in two days. Just bits of bread, cold pasta, nothing much.

My hand moved toward the sandwich. I eat like a bush girl. I had no choice. I took a deep breath after I was done eating.

I put my hand back down and lay back against the silk sheets and looked up at that perfect white ceiling.

Tomorrow he'll wake up sober. He'd see my face and know exactly who I wasn't. And then it would all start. I have been abused physically and emotionally my whole life. Would this be any different when he finds out the truth? 

Morning came already. I woke up before him. He finally woke up and looked at me with a confusing look. 

I swallowed hard. "Good morning," I said.

He squinted his eyes.

" Who are you?" He said. My jaw dropped instantly.