The day was perfect.
Golden light spilled through the windows of the old stone chapel. The flowers—white orchids and blush roses—draped like dreams from every corner. Guests smiled, drinks in hand, marveling at how flawlessly everything had come together. Wynne’s wedding vision had come to life.
But while she spent months obsessing over fonts, favors, and flower arrangements, I had been planning something else entirely.
I stood at the altar, spine straight, hands clasped, my breath steady. The string quartet played softly, and the procession began. First came the bridesmaids.
Every. Single. One. Dressed in black.
Gasps rippled through the pews like a chill. Whispers broke out. Guests glanced at each other, confused and unsettled.
But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t blink. Because everything was going exactly as I intended.
Three Days Earlier
I never heard the front door open. Just felt the silence shift—heavier, darker—like the air itself had changed color.
Suki, my little sister, sat down across from me. Smart, loyal… and shaking.
“I wasn’t looking for it, Knox,” she said softly, “but I saw her. With him.”
The words didn’t register at first. My fiancée Wynne? With who?
Her answer dropped like a stone: “Daniel. Your best man.”
I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. None came.
“They’ve been sneaking around,” Suki continued. “I caught them at a coffee shop. Laughing. Her hand on his knee like it belonged there. Then she kissed him.”
My chest hollowed out. My ears buzzed. I could barely get the words out: “You’re sure?”
Suki’s eyes brimmed with sorrow. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”
She slid her phone across the table. A photo. Wynne’s hand on Daniel’s cheek, lips pressed to his.
I couldn’t breathe. The apartment, once filled with wedding gifts and hope, suddenly felt like a cage.
That night, I didn’t sleep. By morning, I’d made my decision.
Back to the Wedding Day
The guests shifted nervously as the black-clad bridesmaids filed in, looking more like mourners than attendants. The chatter dulled to silence. Even the air felt heavier.
And then the doors opened.
Wynne appeared in a vision of ivory lace and careful perfection. She smiled radiantly—until her eyes landed on the bridesmaids.
Her smile faltered. Her complexion paled. Each step down the aisle became less certain. By the time she reached me, her hands trembled.
“Knox,” she whispered, her voice sharp with panic, “what’s going on? Why are they in black? They’ve ruined everything—”
I smiled coldly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
The chapel went dead silent. Guests leaned in. Wynne’s eyes darted from me to Suki to the bridesmaids who refused to meet her gaze.
“Wynne,” I said evenly, into the microphone so everyone could hear, “this is not a wedding.”
Gasps erupted. Someone stifled a cry.
“This,” I continued, “is a funeral. For whatever love we once had. Because you buried it the second you betrayed me—with my best man.”
Wynne froze, bouquet quivering in her grip.
Her face twisted, fury overtaking fear. She turned on the bridesmaids. “You told him? How could you? You were supposed to be my friends!”
Her closest friend, Bryn, spoke up, voice trembling but firm. “We didn’t want to believe it. But Suki showed us the proof. Knox deserves better.”
Then Suki stepped forward. My little sister. My anchor. Her voice was steady, cold, final. “After we learned the truth, it became our business. Because it was my brother’s life she was about to ruin.”
The words hit Wynne like a blow. Her jaw tightened, fists clenched. She spun back toward me, desperation filling her eyes.
“I can explain, Knox! Please—you have to let me explain!”
I shook my head. “No, Wynne. The only thing you regret is being caught.”
She looked around wildly, searching for support, but no one moved. Guests sat frozen in shock. Her bridesmaids stood like a wall of grief in black.
For the first time since I met her, Wynne looked utterly alone.
Then, with a strangled sob, she dropped her bouquet and fled. Her dress snagged on the aisle runner, nearly sending her to the ground before she stumbled forward, lifted the skirt, and bolted.
Outside the Chapel
I found her on the steps outside, collapsed on the sidewalk, her white gown pooling around her like the ghost of the life she just lost. Her mascara streaked her cheeks, her hands shook as she reached for me.
“Knox,” she whispered, clutching at my sleeve. “Please. Don’t let this be the end. I made a mistake. It was always you. It’s always been you.”
I looked down at her for a long moment.
“If it had always been me,” I said quietly, “you wouldn’t need to say that now.”
Her lips parted, trembling, but no words came.
“I’ll ask your mother to bring you some food,” I added flatly, pulling free from her grip. And then I walked away.
The Aftermath
Inside, the guests sat stunned, eyes darting between the empty aisle and me. My sister stood at my side, steady as a shield. The bridesmaids remained in their black dresses, silent witnesses to the truth.
I cleared my throat and addressed the crowd: “I know this isn’t what you expected. But I’m done pretending. Eat. Drink. Celebrate if you like. As for me—I’ll be just fine.”
And then I left them behind, the echo of gasps still hanging in the air, while outside, Wynne sat in her ruined dress, the reality of her choices finally settling in.
The wedding was over.
And so was she.
