A Day Made of Dreams

The day unfolded like a dream. White roses lined the aisle in flawless arcs, their scent drifting through the warm afternoon breeze. Gentle string music floated across the garden, blending with the hushed murmurs of guests marveling at the scene.

I’ll never forget the way Greg looked at me as I walked toward him—steady, adoring, as if no other woman had ever mattered. He silently mouthed you’re everything before I reached him, gripping my hand like he’d never let it go. The vows came naturally.

His voice broke with feeling. Mine wavered, then found its strength as I met his gaze. When the officiant finally declared us husband and wife, the applause burst into a chorus, sunlight glinting off champagne glasses as laughter trailed us into what felt like forever.

At least, that’s what everyone believed. Greg’s parents hosted the reception with regal flair, sparing no detail. Light from crystal chandeliers danced on polished floors, and tables shimmered under golden cloths.

His mother, Marianne, toasted to “the union they had long hoped for.” His father, James, pulled me into a warm embrace. And Greg—he never let go of my hand. We danced.

We laughed. We kissed like we were the only two people in the world. I was the bride others admired—living out the fairy tale they all dreamed of.

But even fairy tales have their darkness. And some hide monsters in plain sight.

The Anticipation of the Night

As the last song ended and the guests drifted away, Greg leaned close, whispering promises of forever in my ear.

His parents gave us the keys to the house they had gifted—a sprawling estate on the edge of town, with ivy crawling its stone walls and a master suite fit for royalty. We entered with laughter echoing behind us. The champagne lingered on my tongue, but something colder sat in my chest.

Because while Greg believed this night would be about consummating love, I knew it would be about exposing truth. He led me into the suite, his hands trembling when they moved across the silk buttons of my gown. His eyes burned with anticipation.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, brushing his lips against my ear. And then—silence. The moment the dress slipped from my shoulders and fell to the floor, everything stopped.

The Shattering

Greg’s face changed in an instant. The devotion vanished. His pupils widened, his mouth fell open, and his hands trembled as if he’d seen de:ath itself.

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