Chapter 4 - Walking on GlassThe white silk aisle runner stretched out before her like a long, unforgiving ribbon. Every eye in the sprawling courtyard was locked on Mallory. Whispers of admiration rippled through the rows of seats.
“Gorgeous...” “Look at that dress...” “She’s glowing...”
Mallory kept her chin up, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She didn't look at the society matrons whispering behind designer fans. She didn't look at the uncles and cousins smiling warmly from the pews.
Instead, her gaze locked directly onto the man standing at the end of the aisle.
Jaime.
As she drew closer, she saw the expression on his face shift from casual confidence to a flicker of profound confusion. He was watching her eyes. There was no warmth in them. No bridal shyness. No starry-eyed adoration. Just a cold, dead stare that cut through the Arizona heat like a razor blade.
Jaime swallowed hard, his smile faltering slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
A few feet away, standing near the front row beside her mother, Evelyn wore a beatific, tearful smile, dabbing a lace handkerchief beneath her eye. Evelyn had no idea that the very flowers framing her daughter’s wedding were stuffed with the exact words that could destroy her entire social standing in a single afternoon.
Mallory reached the base of the altar. Her uncle, who had flown in to give her away, kissed her cheek and whispered, “You look stunning, honey.”
Mallory didn't reply. She released his arm and stepped up onto the wooden platform.
Jaime reached out to take her hand, whispering, “You’re shaking, Mal. Are you okay?”
Mallory pulled her hand back instantly, letting her fingers slide out of his grip as if his touch were toxic.
Jaime froze. His hand hung awkwardly in mid-air for a second before he dropped it, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “What’s wrong?” he muttered under his breath, leaning in. “Everyone’s watching.”
“Let them watch, Jaime,” Mallory said. Her voice was low, but it carried sharply across the silent platform.
Father Thomas, holding a heavy leather-bound prayer book, looked up over his spectacles with a benevolent, confused smile. He cleared his throat, adjusting his microphone clip.
“Dearly beloved, and family, and friends,” Father Thomas began, his voice booming warmly through the courtyard speakers. “We are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony...”
Mallory stood motionless, listening to the familiar liturgy. She watched the way Jaime tried to recover his composure, forcing a tight, anxious smile for the benefit of the front-row guests. She watched her mother sitting in the front row, whispering something amusing to Aunt Linda, who chuckled softly behind her program.
They thought they had won. They thought they had outsmarted everyone.
Father Thomas reached the pivotal moment of the ceremony. He closed his prayer book slightly and looked out over the congregation.
“If any man here present can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him speak now, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Silence descended upon the courtyard. A desert hawk cried out in the distance.
This was the traditional moment where everyone shifted uncomfortably, smiled, and waited for the priest to move on.
Instead, Mallory stepped forward, directly in front of the microphone stand.
Father Thomas blinked, lowering his glasses in surprise. “My child? The vows are next—”
“Thank you, Father,” Mallory said. Her voice was crystal clear, steady, and amplified across every speaker in the garden, instantly silencing the murmurs of the three hundred guests.
She turned her head slowly, looking out over the sea of stunned faces. Then, she turned her gaze down toward the massive floral arrangement sitting right beside the altar pedestal.
Evelyn frowned from the front row, her maternal instincts finally flaring with alarm. “Mallory, what are you doing? Is this some kind of joke?”
May you like
Mallory ignored her mother completely. She reached her hand deep into the thick, damp white hydrangeas and pulled out the first bulky manila envelope.
The rustle of heavy paper echoed loudly through the microphone.
Related Stories
