The bride that never was

IMOGEN

"You look beautiful," my mum told me as she covered my face with my wedding veil.

"Thank you," I returned, staring at my reflection just as the veil covered my face.

I did look beautiful. It was my wedding. So it was only warranted. I was happy but my mother was happier. It was every mother's dream for her child to be greater than her and I had hit the jackpot.

I was about to become a daughter-in-law to the Rossi household.

The Rossi were a conglomerate family. They practically ruled the city of Portland and friends of my family.

Many would bat my eye that of all the women who have thrown themselves at the feet of the Rossi family, that I was the one who was chosen.

My family didn't really have much to give. The Stones weren't affluent. We weren't charismatic either. But somehow my mother had become friends with Lana Rossi, my soon to be mother in law while she worked as a nail technician in a salon the woman frequented. No one really knew how it happened but they soon became inseparable.

It was how I got to know Elijah Rossi. The man I would be marrying. We met as children and became friends. I even changed schools because his mother wanted us to be close.

It was during college that it became clear that both my mom and Elijah's mom had a plan for us. They didn't have to try so hard though.

We had fallen in love then and when a proposal was made, I was more than happy to accept it.

"You should play the piano at the after-party," my mother mused as she guided me out of the seat I was in and led me outside. "Mr. Rossi loves it when you play it."

Of course, he did. I had acclimated to the art solely for the purpose of impressing my new family.

"Of course," I smiled at her.

We stopped at a door. I could hear the cathedral's hymn from where I stood and it made me nervous. There were going to be cameras and reporters. There were also going to be other affluent families coming to congratulate, not me, but Mr Rossi for getting a daughter-in-law.

I had practised my speech for the after-party should there be any need for it but I couldn't help but feel terrified at the prospect of putting myself out there. The papers had been ruthless when it came to the public eye that I was the one that Elijah would be marrying. There would still be people out there who agreed.

"Are you alright?" My father who had been standing close to the giant shut door asked me.

I straightened my back and nodded. "Just jitters."

"You will be fine," he said, taking my hands.

The hymns got louder and the shut door finally creaked open. I focused on the pristine white carpet that led all the way up to the altar where my groom stood.

The gentle hum of the organ filled the air as I took my first step onto the white carpet, guided by my father's supportive presence. The gaze of the attendees felt like a sea of judgments, but I refused to let it waver my resolve.

Elijah stood at the altar, his eyes fixed forward. As I approached, I couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in his demeanour. The whispers of the guests faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

Reaching the altar, my father gave my hand to Elijah. I took a moment to exchange a brief, scrutinizing glance with him. The vows echoed in my mind as we faced each other, and I couldn't shake that something was wrong.

The proposal was made four years ago before we both went to college. I had stayed in Portland and Elijah had traveled to some big University where his father was a legacy.

He had only returned a few weeks ago. I figured it must be the jitters. I was going through it too.

"Are you alright?" I whispered.

He gave me a smile that reminded me of how dashing he could be. "I can't wait to make you my wife."

The priest began the ceremony, and Elijah's eyes met mine. "I can't believe we're finally here," he whispered, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, it's surreal," I replied, trying to match his enthusiasm. But his gaze seemed distant, and my attempts to engage him were met with fleeting glances.

As the vows unfolded, Elijah recited his with practised ease. When it was my turn, I looked into his eyes, searching for a spark of genuine emotion. "For better or for worse," I said, jitters creeping into my voice.

Elijah squeezed my hand, offering a reassuring smile. "For better or for worse," he echoed.

The exchange of rings felt like a binding contract, sealing a pact that neither of us fully understood. The moment the priest pronounced us husband and wife and we had to perform the ceremonial kiss, an applause enveloped us, drowning out everything else.

I turned to face the guests when Elijah broke the kiss.

My mom was my biggest supporter as she cried and cheered for me.

The chapel doors opened, revealing the awaiting photographers and a frenzy of flashing lights. Elijah, sensing my discomfort, swooped me up into his arms, carrying me with effortless grace. The riot of cheers and camera clicks followed us outside, where a decorated car waited for us.

Elijah then proceeded to gently place me into the car, despite my wedding gown getting everywhere.

When the door closed and the outside world faded into a distant hum, I turned to his side and offered a nervous smile.

"I think I'm afraid, Elijah."

Elijah, now seated beside me, reached for my hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Is this not what you want?"

I chuckled. "You're right. It is what we want."

"Hmmm." Elijah hummed before starting his car. "But you are right to be afraid. The reception taking place at the family villa can only mean one thing. Father expects guests. He probably wants to show his daughter-in-law off. Be prepared for the worst of conversations with the most out-of-touch personalities."

"I'll live," I chuckled as the car started off the road.

When we reached the Rossi family villa, the opulence was undeniable. It felt as if my father-in-law had torn the villa we spent our summers in and remodelled it just for today.

I had barely gotten inside the hall when my mother-in-law whisked me away from Elijah's arms.

"There are some people you have to meet," she told me.

True to Elijah's warning, his parents paraded me around like a prized possession.

Conversations unfolded, many tainted with disdain for me, others with the fascination of witnessing an exotic bird perform.

It was obvious that this was not the circle I belonged to and I felt like a duckling trying desperately to fit in with swans.

It didn't stop there. After a ton of plastic conversation and a collection of business cards, my father-in-law, fueled by champagne and known for his penchant for grand gestures, brought me to the front stage with a mic in his hands.

"Everybody," the man began, calling attention to himself.

He was used to the attention. He probably swam in it. I, on the other hand, felt like throwing up my insides and I didn't even eat. Mom has mentioned that my stomach looked nicer when I wasn't full.

"Here is my family's new daughter-in-law," he announced, his voice booming through the hall.

The room erupted in applause. I knew a superficial celebration when I saw it. I stood on the stage, Elijah, somewhere below me talking to friends while feeling like an exhibit in a grand spectacle.

The gazes of the gathered elite guests felt like probing fingers dissecting me.

"And to show my utmost appreciation, I'm presenting Imogen Stone. Sorry. Imogen Rossi, my daughter-in-law with a house in Arlington," he continued, raising his glass as if to toast to my newfound possession.

The applause cranked up in response and in return, I smiled, trying my best to play the part of the contented daughter-in-law.

Mr. Rossi let me go after the grand announcement, and I navigated through the sea of guests, their eyes lingering on me like hungry predators sizing up their prey.

I found Elijah where he stood, chatting with a group of acquaintances.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," I remarked.

"Of course. It's our wedding day, isn't it?" he replied, glancing at me with a detached smile. He signalled a server over and handed me a glass of champagne. "Here."

"No," I refused. "I'm exhausted. The last thing I need is Alcohol."

Elijah nodded in response and dropped the champagne back to the server's tray.

"Do you want us to go?"

"Do you want us to go?" I redirected the question at him.

Because I didn't want to seem selfish. This was also Elijah's space. Just because I didn't feel comfortable did not mean that he didn't.

"Why would I want to stay?" Elijah whispered, his words barely audible over the din of the celebration. "These men have told me how love becomes hell the second you put a ring to it."

Without a second to spare, Elijah took my hand and led me discreetly through the crowd and towards the exit.

There was a drizzle when we stepped outside the grand villa and into Elijah's car.

As Elijah started the engine, raindrops danced on the car roof, creating a soothing rhythm.

I proceeded to sink into my chair as we drove away from the Rossi villa, leaving behind the pretence and expectations of the night.

"I made reservations at a hotel for you," Elijah whispered to me just as the drizzle started to into a gentle rain.

I sat up, confused. I had been of the opinion that we would be moving into our house which my father-in-law wouldn't stop talking about at the party. I had been looking forward to our new home. The anticipation had bubbled within me until Elijah's unexpected words shattered my excitement.

"Hotel?" I questioned, puzzled by his choice.

"Yes, just for the week," he replied tersely, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I will get you an apartment somewhere nice next week."

"Elijah, what are you talking about? What about the house? What is all this talk about us staying at an apartment when your father bought us a house?"

He sighed, keeping his focus on the rain-smeared windshield. "I thought you were sharper than this, Imogen. Or are you not?"

I was silent. This wasn't what I had envisioned for our newlywed life. The joyous moments of our wedding now seemed overshadowed by a looming sense of uncertainty. I struggled to grasp the sudden shift in Elijah's demeanour. "Eli, you are scaring me."

"We? We are not moving to an apartment. You are. There is no us, Imogen. There never was."

"What are you talking about, Elijah?" Now I was panicking, my voice shaky as tears welled up in my eyes.

It was happening so fast that it almost felt like a prank. Was I going crazy?

He took a deep breath, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Imogen, I only married you because my family forced me to. I blame your family for pushing us into this mess in the first place."

His words hit me like a blow to the chest. I couldn't comprehend the betrayal or how this was happening. There was no way my parents would have pushed for anything. Who were we in society? My mother was friends with Elijah's mother but that was it. Elijah and I had been close since childhood. If anyone was pushed, it was me.

I tried not to cry as I tried to make sense of the situation that was spiralling out of my control.

"But... but our wedding, the vows, the promises..."

"Empty words, Imogen. Just empty words to please our families. I never wanted this. I never wanted you," he admitted coldly.

The car came to an abrupt stop in front of a dimly lit hotel, raindrops tapping impatiently on the roof. Elijah's stern expression told a story of detachment as he handed me an envelope filled with money.

"Get out, Imogen. This is where our 'marriage' ends. Take the money, get a room. I'll see you when I see you."

His words echoed in the hollow space between us, each syllable another crack in the facade of the love I thought we shared.

"You were the one who proposed to me, Elijah. This wasn't an arranged marriage like you are making it out to be." I had to let the words out.

"I was blind to the manipulation then. Your mother and mine are friends. My mother is simple and we both know it. She was born into wealth and will die in wealth so she has this shallow idea about who people are. You married me for my family's name and my influence or did you not?"

It was 1972. Of course, his name and influence were what made this marriage palatable.

"It is obvious that this enlightenment you had didn't just happen. So why didn't you end it at the church?"

"Because people would have asked questions." He retorted. "Would you have liked it if I blamed you for infidelity or worse?"

He must have thought about that too. I snatched the envelope from his hands, knowing listening to him go on would only make me feel worse.

"You are a man Elijah. You could simply break all ties with me if you didn't like how I used toothpaste. That is how privileged you happen to be." I stopped to catch my breath because it felt like I would just start crying again. "I will be expecting the divorce letters tomorrow."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I simply stepped out of the car and into the pouring rain.

Elijah's car sat there for maybe a minute before zooming past me. I watched as the streetlights cast distorted shadows and Elijah's car disappeared into the night, leaving me standing alone in the desolate glow, clutching the enveloped money.