Page 11 of Forced By the Bratva

I slowly sneaked back into the church and met Laura, still seated there, agitated. I wanted to ask her why she was so paranoid, but I decided to let her be.

“It’s not like you care about others,” I muttered.

My father soon walked back to us. Our area was a bit separated from the main church, so those inside couldn’t see us or hear what we were talking about.

“Where is the groom?” Laura asked. “Why isn’t he here yet?”

My father ran both hands through his hair. “I have no idea,” he replied. “I just hope he’s okay.”

Laura narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, you hope he’s okay?” She moved closer to him. “Why do you sound like you think something happened to him?”

He leaned forward. “Because something bad did happen to him. He was attacked on his way here, and since then, no one’s heard from him.”

The words came out like a double-edged sword, sending cold shivers that turned into butterflies down my stomach, and I found myself grinning again.

Of course, anyone in my shoes would be happy. I would be saved from this marriage if he wasn’t found. I prayed in my heart that they wouldn’t find him, and he wouldn’t show up.

Laura gulped as she turned to me with a frown and a deadly glare. I couldn’t hide my smile. Laura gritted her teeth and clenched her fist as she stared at me.

Maybe I’m finally saved, I thought to myself.

I hoped the victory would last. I returned to my seat and stayed quiet while Laura began to pace.

I was still smiling when I heard someone pick up the mic and make an announcement. I couldn’t hear everything clearly, but I was able to pick up a few words and join them together.

Feliks was here. My heart sank deeply into my stomach, and I felt a lump in my throat.

My father ran back to me and grabbed my hand to pull me up.

“Your husband is here,” he announced excitedly, making my stomach churn in disappointment.

“Ah, thank goodness!” Laura exclaimed.

I didn’t bother to look at her, not even for a second.

I trudged down the aisle, my father’s arm firmly linked with mine, a hint of reluctance in every step. My eyes gazed straight ahead, avoiding the sea of expectant faces, my mind elsewhere. The soft rustle of my white gown and the gentle creak of the old wooden pews were the only sounds accompanying my slow procession.

The church hall, with its high, vaulted ceiling and stained-glass windows, seemed to shrink under the weight of my indifference. The warm, multicolored light filtering through the windows cast a sense of nostalgia, but my heart remained unresponsive. The air was thick with the scent of old hymnals and fresh flowers, a familiar aroma that usually brought me comfort, but today, it felt suffocating.

As I walked down the aisle, my thoughts drifted to the life I was about to embrace, one that felt more like an obligation than a dream. My father’s gentle squeeze on my hand was meant to reassure me, but it only made me feel more trapped. I forced a faint smile, a courtesy to the gathered guests, but my eyes betrayed my true emotions—a mix of resignation, anxiety, and a hint of desperation. As I glanced to the side, I saw Veronica in one of the front row pews, smiling sarcastically at me.

My father’s words, saying that I should behave, sounded like a threat to my ear as I heard them again resounding in my head.

My heart was beating very fast as we approached the altar. I remembered my mom, and again, I smiled.

The soft murmur of whispers and the creaking of the pews seemed to grow louder, echoing my inner turmoil. My gaze never wavered, fixed on the figure waiting at the altar, a sense of duty propelling me forward, one slow step at a time.

I could see a smile on Feliks’ lips as he waited to receive my hands in his.

I was so scared. I didn’t want to enter this eternal trap; my heart was heavy, yet I needed to do so.

“Smile a lot, Jenna,” my father whispered.

One would think he was whispering sweet words into my ear from the way he smiled so beautifully and boldly. I hated him for doing this to me.

“The crowd should not see you sad on your wedding day.”

Again, I forced a smile, which came out more like a grimace. I knew I had to do better, or I would be in trouble. I tried to stop myself from crying as I kept forcing those fake smiles.

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