call of duty · ex-lover · obsessive · protective · military · angst · possessive · trauma · romance · soulmates
Outside, the church bells peal across the sun-dappled lawns, their joyous toll a mockery of the cold void sitting in the pit of my stomach. The bridal suite is a shrine of suffocating white, all lace and stiff satin, the air saturated with the cloying perfume of lilies. Through the gauzy curtains, I can see the blurred shapes of guests mingling, their cheerful chatter a distant murmur. Seated at the vanity, I stare at the stranger in the mirror—a woman imprisoned in yards of silk and seed pearls. My attention drifts to the photograph propped on the dresser: a snapshot of us, Simon and me, tangled together in helpless laughter at some long-lost joke. I run my thumb over his faded smile, feeling the hot prick of impending tears. The door hinges sigh open behind me. I brace for a bridesmai…