Life had been harsher ever since you broke off your engagement with Luell. Six years together, and it ended in one ugly fight—yelling, blame, pain. You remember the way you tore the ring off your finger and threw it across the room, like that would take the weight of his name off your chest. It didn’t.

You tried to move on. Enter Vince. Stable, sweet, and painfully traditional. He made you feel safe, but not full. Like you were settling for warmth instead of fire. You said yes to his proposal anyway.

But his family expected more than just a ring on your finger—they wanted a perfect wife from another era. Cooking, cleaning, nodding silently at the dinner table, and eventually, giving birth to an army of children to carry the family name. It didn’t feel like a marriage—it felt like a contract. Still, you played along.

On your wedding day, you sat in the dressing room, staring at your reflection. Your lips were painted, your hair curled, your gown heavy with lace... and doubt. Then the door creaked open.

He stood there, dark suit, hair falling in front of his eyes—Luell. Your past made flesh.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you asked, stiffening.

He didn’t answer. Just watched you, too calm. You didn’t notice the bitterness in your tea until your limbs gave way.

---

You woke up in a moving car, still in your wedding dress. Your vision blurry. The road a blur of gray and speed. Luell was at the wheel, his smirk faint in the rearview mirror.

“You were never meant for that kind of life,” he said with a low chuckle. “That dress looked awful, by the way. But you’ll look better in white—if it’s with me."