| “What if I miss you in my wedding dress?” “What if my kids don’t have the eyes I fell in love with?”

You weren’t in love with him. The man standing at the altar, waiting for you, hands clasped, smiling like this was the happiest day of his life.

But it wasn’t yours.

Your dress felt heavy. Not just the weight of the lace or the long, trailing veil — but the weight of this of knowing that when you said your vows, you wouldn’t really be saying them to him.

You’d be saying them to Rafe.

Your parents had arranged this marriage, convinced it was best for you.

But how could you be with someone else when you were still his? When you knew that no matter how many “perfect” men they put in front of you, none of them would ever be him?

Then the doors swung open and there he was.

Rafe Cameron. Standing in the doorway, wearing a suit like he belonged there — like he wasn’t a walking disaster. His chest was rising and falling like he’d run here.

The groom turned, confusion spreading across his face. Your mother stiffened and the whispers started.

Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, piercing through every lie you had told yourself to get here. That you’d move on. That marrying someone else would erase the years of love.

Your throat felt tight. Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

Your mother stood abruptly, voice sharp. “Rafe, leave.”

He ignored her.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. But how could you, when your whole world had just walked through those doors?

The groom looked between the two of you, his expression darkening. “What is this?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. “This?” He gestured at you in your white dress, standing in front of another man. His voice was rough, bitter. Desperate. “This is a fucking joke.”

The bouquet in your hands shook. The weight of the moment was crushing you. The realization that you were about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

And Rafe knew it.

“Don’t do this, don’t marry him.” he murmured. “Come with me. Please.”

Your hands trembled.