Isabella stood at the altar, the weight of her pristine white gown pressing down on her like an unbearable burden. The whispers of the crowd, once a comforting hum, now felt like sharp daggers aimed at her back. Her heart raced, the soft murmurings of guests fusing with the rapid pulse in her ears. She blinked, her eyes darting to the grand wooden doors at the end of the aisle. Any moment now. **He’ll come**. Liam would come. He was probably running late, a bit flustered, but he would come.
Right?
The silence in the grand cathedral grew louder, stretching taut like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. Isabella’s palms grew clammy, her fingers clutched the bouquet of white roses with enough force to make her knuckles whiten. Her best friend, Brianna, stood at her side, fidgeting uncomfortably. Isabella could sense her anxiety without needing to look. But what could be wrong? Liam loved her. He had proposed under the stars, vowing his heart to hers forever.
But **where was he?**
Father Marcus cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. He shifted his gaze to Isabella, a look of concern etched deep into his aging features. Isabella gave him a quick, nervous smile, willing him to believe everything was fine—even as the knot in her stomach tightened with every tick of the church's ancient clock.
The bridesmaids exchanged uneasy glances. Delores and Tom Anderson, Brianna's parents and Isabella’s foster parents, whispered in the front row. The worry in Delores’ eyes mirrored the growing pit of dread in Isabella’s heart.
The air in the room felt heavier. Isabella’s breathing became shallow, her chest tight as she replayed her last conversation with Liam in her mind. He had seemed distracted, sure, but that was just wedding jitters. **It had to be.** Right? A flash of memory crossed her mind—his lips on hers as he whispered, “I love you.” But now, that seemed like a distant dream, an echo in an empty room.
Finally, Brianna broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Bella… something’s wrong.”
Isabella nodded, unable to form words. Her gaze was locked on the doors. Her heart screamed at her to run, to flee this scene before it became too real. But her feet were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the hope that he’d burst through those doors any second, a flustered apology on his lips. **He had to come.** He had to.
The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The atmosphere shifted from excitement to palpable tension. Her younger brother Ted shifted nervously in his seat. People were now whispering openly, turning their heads toward the back of the room, expecting the groom to appear at any moment.
But he didn’t.
A loud thud echoed through the hall as the heavy wooden doors opened. Everyone turned in anticipation. Isabella’s breath caught in her throat, her heart momentarily skipping. **Finally.** He’s here. He’s—
It wasn’t Liam.
Her eyes widened in confusion as a tall, suited man, one of Liam's groomsmen, walked swiftly down the aisle. His face was grim, his eyes flickering toward Isabella before shifting awkwardly to the floor. Her stomach dropped. She knew that look. She’d seen it on television, in movies, in stories she never imagined could be her own.
“Miss Walters,” the man said quietly as he reached her, his voice a whisper under the weight of the cathedral’s high ceiling. “I need to speak with you.”
Isabella felt like the ground beneath her was crumbling. Her legs wobbled. She grasped Brianna’s arm for support. “Where is Liam?” Her voice was faint, barely audible. Her throat had gone dry, each word scraping painfully out of her mouth.
The groomsman didn’t answer right away, instead shifting uncomfortably, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. Finally, he spoke, the words coming out in a rush. “Liam… he’s gone.”
Gone?
Isabella blinked, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the meaning of those words. “What do you mean… **gone**?” Her voice was stronger this time, fueled by a sudden surge of panic. She looked around wildly, hoping this was some kind of sick joke.
But the expression on his face was all she needed to know that it wasn’t.
“He... he left with Tanya,” he finally muttered, eyes darting to the side, unable to meet hers. “They... They’re gone. I’m so sorry.”
The words hit her like a punch to the stomach, the force of it driving the air from her lungs. Tanya? **Tanya?** Her mind spun, the room tilting dangerously. Her roommate, her best friend, the woman she trusted. She and Liam had **run away together?**
The weight of betrayal hit her full force, threatening to drown her in a sea of pain, disbelief, and anger. Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed had Brianna not caught her. The bouquet slipped from her fingers, scattering petals onto the cold stone floor like a mockery of the love that had just shattered around her.
The whispers in the church rose to a dull roar as guests began piecing together what had just happened. Some gasped, others stared in shock, while a few exchanged knowing glances as if they had suspected this all along.
“Bella...” Brianna’s voice was soft, filled with worry and an undercurrent of rage. “I... I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
Isabella’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath, the edges of her vision going dark. Her mind raced with images of Liam and Tanya—laughing, sharing inside jokes, sitting together at their weekly coffee dates. She never noticed. Never once did she suspect anything. How could she have been so blind? **How could he have done this to her?**
She staggered backward, barely registering Brianna’s frantic words, the priest's comforting hand on her shoulder, or the murmurs of the crowd. Her world was crashing down, the future she had imagined with Liam disintegrating into nothing before her eyes.
Suddenly, anger surged through her veins, momentarily replacing the crippling pain. **How dare they?** Liam had promised her forever. He had whispered sweet nothings, looked into her eyes, and vowed to cherish her. And Tanya? Her friend—no, her traitor. The one person who had seen her through her darkest moments, the one who had celebrated her joy when Liam had proposed. They had both played her for a fool, and now... they were gone.
“Liam left with Tanya?” Her voice was ice, trembling with the weight of emotions fighting to break free. “He left me? For her?”
The groomsman nodded, his face a mask of pity. “Yes.”
Isabella’s heart fractured into a thousand pieces. The pain became unbearable, like a raw, searing wound that would never heal. She wanted to scream, to cry, to claw at the world around her. But nothing came out. No tears. No screams. Just silence.
She turned toward the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces of the people she knew—people who had come to witness her happiest day, only to see her greatest humiliation. They were watching her with pity, with judgment, with curiosity. She was the girl who had been left at the altar. The girl whose fiancé had run off with her best friend.
Without another word, Isabella tore off the veil, throwing it to the ground. It felt like a prison around her, suffocating her, reminding her of the promise that would never be fulfilled. Her hands shook as she grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it so she could turn and walk—no, run—away from the altar. Away from the church. Away from the nightmare that had become her life.
“Bella, wait—” Brianna called after her, but Isabella was already gone, her feet carrying her out of the church and into the world outside.
The bright sunlight hit her like a slap in the face, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The sky was cloudless, birds chirped in the distance, and the city carried on like nothing had happened. But for Isabella, everything had changed. The world felt colder, emptier, as if the very foundation beneath her had been pulled out from under her feet.
She stumbled down the church steps, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. She had been left. Betrayed. Humiliated. The man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with had abandoned her for another woman—her closest friend.
The fairytale was over.
