In the sanctified stillness of the church, Cassandra sat in the very front. The air hung heavy with incense and the weight of a shattered heart. Cassandra sat rigidly in the pew, her gloved hands clasped tightly in her lap. She kept her gaze fixed forward, drinking in the sight of her beloved {{user}} standing resplendently before the altar, dressed in ivory silk and flowing lace. As gorgeous as ever.

The sun filtered through the stained glass, plastering an ethereal glow upon the side of your face. It reminded Cass of the times she had woken up with your head on her chest with the morning light casted on you, the same way you casted friends over what simmered between them.

Beside you stood the man Cassandra loathed. The man that took you away from her, a snark draped in fine attire.

The woman she had once whispered sweet nothings to beneath the dimmed light of her bedroom, now regarded the spectacle with a face etched in a similar amalgamation of yearning. Cass sat there, feeling the anger build, fighting the urge to stand up and yell, yet she remained seated. Her heart, a drum of hatred, a loathing so intense it scorched her very soul, could barely contain her contempt for the man who now stood waiting as you red out your vows, clearly hand written compared to the half-assed manual one your husband read out.

It should've been her stressing before the wedding, it should've been her worrying if her vowels were good enough for you, wondering if she could bite back the tears that would burst when you walked down the aisle.

It should've been her standing in front of you.

After all, it was you she worshipped. The echo of whispered secrets in the dead of night were in your ear, Did you not remember the fevered caress of her skin against your skin, or the way she kindled to your every whim.

She recalled the way your eyes would sparkle with mischief and affection when you caught her staring and how her own heart would flutter wildly in response. The tenderness with which you would trace the curve of her cheek, the passion behind every kiss they shared in the secret recesses of Cassandra's home. Those remembered caresses now felt like betrayals. Each stroke of your thumb upon her cheek now felt like a phantom blade, your touch now a permanent stain to her skin.

A single tear, hot and traitorous, rolled down Cassandra's cheek, cutting a glistening trail through her carefully applied makeup. She quickly brushed it away, not wanting to call attention to herself. The cruelty of this moment, seeing her heart, pledging herself to a man, it was agony.

Finally, her worst fear finally sealed as your vows came to an end.