Where is my bride?

WEDDING VENUE

ROSALINE’S POV

It was an autumn beach wedding in the late afternoon on a sunny day. The beach faced a breathtaking sunset. Rose and Jasmine’s scented candles were lined up on each side of the beach, and a trail of sparkling white flowers graced the aisle. The set-up was nothing short of breathtaking.

As I stood there in my carefully chosen gown, family members and a few unfamiliar faces beamed at me with happiness radiating from their faces. I mustered a smile in return, though it felt more like a forced grimace that left my lips aching.

The wedding songs struck up their joyous tunes, and my father, the man responsible for this grand affair, approached me. He hugged me briefly, muttering, “I’m proud of you,” making me want to puke badly. Yeah, he is proud of me for paying for his son’s mistake. What sort of Father is happy when his daughter is getting married to someone as old as him? He linked our arms together, and we marched down the aisle to my supposed groom, who was standing there with a happy smile. Wait... What was that guy doing there? Seriously, why must he be the one to represent Alex? I asked myself. He must have forgotten about the slap, I thought.

I felt my palms get sweaty, my legs wobbled, and I had to hold my dad tightly for support. I felt like running away and abandoning this wedding, but I couldn’t. ‘I’m doing this for Mum,’ I continuously chanted in my head.

Dad handed me over to my acting groom and went to stand beside his witch, who was smiling brightly. I felt like ripping her hair off her head but managed to keep my cool. I’ll deal with her later. The priest came over to us. We said our vows and exchanged rings. The priest asked if anyone objects to our marriage. At that moment, I desperately hoped for someone to stand up and give a thousand reasons why we couldn’t wed. But sadly, none of that happened.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” declared the priest, and my heart skipped a beat. The supposed groom approached me with an overly cheerful smile. What was he up to? He wasn’t supposed to lift the veil or, heaven forbid, kiss me. I shot him a confused look as he gently lifted the veil. His smile vanished, replaced by shock, and he blurted out, “Where is Zara?... Where is my bride?”