บท 2: 2
Elizabeth
THREE WEEKS LATER
The unsteady thrum of my heartbeat filled my ears, drowning out everything else. My palms were sweaty, and every breath felt like it was fighting its way out of me. I gripped my bouquet tightly, trying to stop my hands from shaking, but it wasn't helping. I could barely feel my fingers anymore.
It was happening. The moment I had always dreamed of—except it was nothing like I had imagined.
The church hall stretched in front of me, impossibly long. The roses scattered on the floor were pristine, untouched, as though they'd been laid out for someone who truly deserved this moment. But I didn't. I wasn't the one meant to walk down this aisle, not like this, not with my heart in my throat, threatened by the tears I couldn't let fall.
I had imagined this moment for so long, but never like this. Never with the cold emptiness creeping into my chest. Never with the uncertainty gnawing at my insides. My dream had been simple: to walk down the aisle to meet the love of my life. But this? This was a farce.
The farther I walked, the more suffocating the air felt. I wasn't sure if it was the weight of the dress or the expectations on my shoulders, but it was hard to breathe. I focused on my steps, on the motion of my feet, one in front of the other, but it felt like the world around me was closing in.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only seemed to grow. The tears were right there, just under the surface, and I couldn't stop them from pricking the corners of my eyes. This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I thought bitterly, but instead, I felt like I was suffocating.
And then our gaze locked.
Alexander. My soon-to-be husband.
He was waiting at the end of the aisle, sitting in his wheelchair, expression as unreadable as ever. His gaze didn't flicker when he saw me. He didn't smile. He didn't even seem to acknowledge my presence beyond the formality of what was about to happen.
There were no sparks, no warmth. Just the cold, distant gaze of a man who didn't seem to care one way or the other. I hated how much it hurt to see him like this. I hated how much it made me feel like a stranger in my own life.
I reached the end of the aisle, my heart pounding like it was about to tear through my chest. The priest stood between us, smiling at both of us with an air of kindness I could barely bring myself to acknowledge. My father's hand was still lightly on my arm, but even his touch couldn't ease the anxiety flooding my body.
"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" the priest asked.
My father, standing beside me, cleared his throat before speaking. "I do," he said. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his grip on me tightening, as if he were trying to anchor me in place, to remind me I couldn't mess this up.
I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him how much I hated this, how much I wanted to run away, how I wasn't ready to marry a man who I didn't love. But I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. So I just stood there, silently, wishing for something, anything, to break the heavy tension in the air.
The priest continued, his voice warm as he guided us through the ceremony. But my mind wasn't on the words. I wasn't thinking about the vows or the promises or the future. I was thinking about the emptiness in Alexander's eyes, about the coldness between us, about the dreams I had built up only to watch them shatter before my eyes.
"Do you, Elizabeth, take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, till death do you part?"
My mouth went dry. I could barely hear the words over the deafening beat of my heart. I should've said no. I should've run. But instead, I found myself whispering, "I do."
The priest turned to Alexander, his voice cutting through the tension. "Do you, Alexander, take Elizabeth to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, till death do you part?"
I thought I'd seen everything in his face, but in that moment, something shifted. Something deep and buried stirred in his eyes—something I couldn't quite read. His expression remained the same, but his gaze... it lingered on me just a little longer than it should have. For a fleeting moment, it was as if he saw me. Really saw me. "I do," he said without a flicker of hesitation.
The priest smiled. "You may now exchange rings."
My fingers trembled as I reached for the ring I had tucked into the bouquet. It felt too heavy in my hand, the cool metal pressing against my palm.
Alexander's hand was steady as he took the ring from the small velvet box. He didn't look at me as he slid it onto my finger, the motion as smooth and detached as the rest of the ceremony.
When it was my turn, I faltered. My hands were shaking so badly that the ring nearly slipped from my grip. I glanced up at Alexander, hoping for... I wasn't sure what. Reassurance? A sign?
He gave me nothing.
Somehow, I managed to slide the ring onto his finger. The priest's voice rose again, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
The words hit me like a cold wave. I stood there, frozen. My breath hitched as I waited for Alexander to move, for him to do something. Anything.
Alexander didn't lean toward me immediately. There was a pause—a long one—where all I could hear was the sound of my own frantic heartbeat. And then, very slowly, he shifted forward, his hands grasping the armrests. I leaned in, unsure, as he moved closer.
His hand touched my cheek lightly, the brush of his fingers so gentle it sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't pull me into an embrace. He didn't kiss me like I had imagined with the man I had hoped for. Instead, his lips pressed softly against mine, the kiss brief, cold, and perfunctory.
It wasn't the kiss of a man in love. It wasn't even the kiss of a man who cared. It was the kiss of a man doing his duty, and nothing more.
It ended almost as soon as it began. He pulled away, and for a split second, everything felt wrong.
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