Left at the Altar
ALANA POV
My fingers shook and my knees nearly gave up under me. The letter I read caused my throat to tighten and my eyes to blur as floods of tears threatened to overtake me. As I looked around at the increasingly nervous guests, all I could think about was how they were muttering to each other and staring at my pathetic plight. The sight of my father's white face when he saw me standing on the Altar without a groom was enough to send me reeling in disbelief. As I stood there, stunned and quaking with fear, I tried to process the unexpected humiliation I had just suffered on my special day.
Karina came up behind me in the bridesmaid line and gave me a much-needed shoulder to lean on. I watched as her gorgeous eyes scanned the text and her expression changed to one of horror. My chest hurts, and I can hardly breathe like my air passages are closing in on me.
Despite her encouragement, I smeared my white wedding dress by bowing my knee to the ground in a display of shame, humiliation, and treachery. I cried my eyes out....
People started to whisper, and then I saw everyone duck their heads as they filed off the pews and out of the ornate churches. My brother rushes them out the door to save me from further humiliation.
As soon as Karina gave him the chance to be there for me, my father hurried toward my frail body and gave me a hug.
When my father gave me a close hug while we both were crying, the cursed letter I was holding slipped out of my hands.
Do I Deserve This Embarrassment? All of these months of planning have gone to waste; surely he can call off the wedding without abandoning me at the altar like a rejected bride.
It hurts like hell to have your heart broken, yet there's no physical mark to prove how terrible it is. Wanting to know what went wrong.
We were both in favor of the wedding, marriage, and commitment. Two adults who freely chose to spend the rest of their lives together have tied the knot without anyone's interference.
The question is why he would treat me like this. At the last second, doubt crept into his mind, and he realized that I am too good for him. To make myself feel better, he is less.That's how he tried to explain away his treachery, which cost me and my family our honor.
He made me the punchline, but he said I deserved happiness because I was too good, too flawless, and better off without him. Can you call this joy? When he stepped on my heart in front of a crowd of people and humiliated me.
I watched as his parents sat quietly processing the news; his father's face darkened as Karina handed him the letter, and I could see by the redness in his eyes that he, too, was taken aback by what had happened.
He walked over to me and bent down to put his arm around my quaking shoulders. The chapel had become a sea of mourning, and it was beginning to suffocate me. As I dabbed my eyes, I noticed that Karina had refused to witness my breakdown and was instead hiding her face on my brother's chest.
I glanced up at my dad with red eyes and said, "I want to go home." He nodded, holding my arms tightly, not wanting to let go for fear that if he did, I might fall again.
Passing the benches and touching the bright blooms that adorn their tops always gives me a headache. It's white, like my dress, which is in keeping with the color scheme we chose for our wedding as a couple.
As soon as my feet left the church, I peered back inside for a final time before collapsing asleep.
In the BLAIR RESIDENCE...
"HOW DARE YOU CONNOR, YOU'RE TOO MUCH!"
As soon as I woke up from my siesta, I could hear the bustle outside. For a few minutes after hearing Connor's voice beseech me and his family for forgiveness, I was completely hypnotized. He pleaded to meet me, but I suspected my brother would prevent it. When I woke up, I felt a little weak all over; I attributed this to the fact that I had collapsed from shock earlier this morning. Crusting my eyelashes and skin, the remnants of my melting, teary mascara made me feel sticky. I got out of bed because I didn't want to sleep through their fight in the living room. I just need a nice cry beneath the shower's running water. The screen of my phone was covered with messages and missed calls. The city as a whole now knows about the start of my mocking journey and the bride who was abandoned at the altar. I let out a little giggle, poking fun at my good fortune and laughing at myself in the process.
The clean shower was just what I needed to wash away the grime that had gotten caught in my skin after I had fallen to the ground in front of my invited guests. I plugged in the hair drier, turned it on, and dried my hair to drown out the growing clamor from the living room, which was laced with tension from both sides.
I dressed in my sweater and leggings and slipped on my house slippers to confront Connor, my heart numb from the anguish it was still inflicting on me. I believed things between us were great, maybe even perfect; we never had any disagreements or misunderstandings, and I never bothered him with any messages that weren't important to his work or his life.
Our families are good friends, so we were already acquainted. We were inseparable throughout our teenage years and into adulthood. I suppose "were" sums up our relationship best right now. Suddenly, we were each other's strangers who were about to part ways.
My fingers shook as I fumbled with the handle. Nothing can be done to repair the harm at this point. I can't fall again, I'll hurt myself, the thoughts echoed in my head as I delicately descended the stairs, holding tightly to the banister for stability. Connor was on the floor, kneeling in front of our parents; the dried blood around his broken nose was reminiscent of the dried tears I had rinsed away in the shower.
Jake, my sibling, looked at him like he was about to pounce, or at least he tried to. The stains of Connor's blood that adorn his knuckles are proof of that.
They were staring at me, and I felt like I was being suffocated all over again.
Connor lowered his head and turned away from me, obviously ashamed of the harm he had done to me and my life.
When I say, "We need to talk," my voice is as icy as my heart has become since reading the letter. I can picture Jake rolling his eyes at my decision.