Page 115 of Isaia

Anthony nods, and his brother steps forward, handing him a small velvet box. Anthony opens it, revealing a simple gold band, and I stare at it as though it’s a shackle, a symbol of everything I’m losing.

He takes my left hand, his touch gentle, reverent, as he slides the ring onto my finger. “I offer you this ring,” he says, low but sure, “as a symbol of our unbreakable bond. It is a reminder of my eternal faith and unwavering dedication. I will cherish you forevermore.” The words—beautiful and sincere as they may be—cut deeper than I thought they would.

My hand trembles as I take the second ring, a matching gold band, from the box. My fingers feel clumsy and unwilling as I hold it in my palm.

Anthony extends his hand, and for a moment, I hesitate. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat screaming at me to stop, to run, to do anything but this.

But I don’t. I can’t.

“I offer you this ring to wear as a symbol of our…unbreakable bond,” I manage, but every word kills me a little more. “It is a reminder of my…eternal faith and unwavering dedication. I will cherish you forevermore.”

I slide the ring onto his finger, my touch featherlight, as though the act itself might shatter me completely.

Anthony watches me, his expression unreadable, and I can feel his concern and confusion pressing against me like a physical weight.

“By the power vested in me,” the priest says, his words echoing in the stillness, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The words hit me like a blow, and the room spins for a moment, the edges of my vision blurring. I hear the applause, the soft murmurs of approval from the guests, but it feels distant, unreal.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I’m still trying to gather myself when Anthony turns to me, his hands resting lightly on my arms as he leans in. And the moment his lips brush against mine, soft and fleeting, I stop breathing.

Stop living.

Dying as my stomach twists, the guilt is almost unbearable as I force myself to kiss him back, to play my part.

But all I can think about is Isaia. His touch, his kiss, the way he made me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. The memory of him is a sharp, aching wound that refuses to heal, and standing here, in this moment, feels like pouring salt into it.

Anthony leans close. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s just…a lot,” I whisper, hoping I’m playing my part convincing enough.

He nods, his expression softening. “It’s okay. I got you.”

But he doesn’t. Not really. Because the truth is, no one has me. Not Anthony, not Michele, not even Isaia. I’m adrift, lost in a sea of blackmail, lies, and half-truths, and the only thing I’m sure of is that the man I want isn’t the one standing beside me.

The thought claws at my chest, a sharp, unrelenting ache threatening to consume me. But I shove it down, bury it deep because there’s no room for weakness now. I made my choice, and I must live with it, no matter how much it hurts.

The priest smiles, his hands raised in blessing. “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Paladino.”

The applause swells, and Anthony takes my hand, leading me down the aisle.

My dress brushes against the floor, heavy and constricting, a perfect representation of the weight pressing down on my shoulders. I keep my head high, my smile fixed, but inside, I’m breaking. Splintering.

Because this isn’t a wedding. It’s a funeral. And the thing being buried is me.

My vision blurs and the church suddenly feels too small, too stifling, the world closing in around me. It’s like my lungs no longer know how to expand or what to do with the air I’m struggling to breathe in.

Anthony and I are still walking, smiling at guests like it’s the happiest day of our lives, when the heavy oak doors of the church slam open with a loud crash.

Gasps ripple through the room as every head turns toward the entrance.

“Isaia,” I whisper, my lips barely shaping his name.

“Sorry I’m late, baby girl.”

My heart swells and breaks at the same time. His eyes—those dark, burning eyes—pin me in place like I’m the only thing in the room that matters. It’s terrifying, intoxicating, and achingly familiar. A magnetic pull, drawing me to him as it always does.

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