Chapter 2: The Wedding and the Shame

Colin Parker led his light cavalry deep behind enemy lines, and for two whole months, not a soul heard from him.

His absence hung over the Parker estate like a thundercloud. Folks speculated over coffee at the diner, and the local paper ran front-page stories on the war every morning. At church, prayers for his safe return floated in the cool hush of the sanctuary.

No one believed he’d come back alive.

Even Mrs. Mallory, the Parkers’ cook, wore black for a week, convinced the worst had happened. I overheard the staff making quiet plans for a memorial, just in case.

But what no one expected—

The very first thing he did upon coming home was marry my older legitimate sister, Lillian Shaw.

The wedding announcement cracked through town like thunder. The Parkers hosted a riverfront reception, the kind of party only old money can throw. Gardenias and lemon cake scented the air, and a jazz band’s tune wound through the morning like a promise.

The sun scorched down, heavy and relentless.

It was the kind of Southern day where the air pressed you flat. My dress clung to my skin, sweat pooling at the small of my back. Cicadas screeched in the trees.

Colin’s words cut through me like a blade.

I felt sucker-punched, my breath stolen. I scanned the crowd—faces hidden behind church fans and wide-brimmed hats—and wished I could vanish.

In the noisy swirl of guests, I fought down the nausea rising in my throat.

The smell of fried chicken and wedding cake made my stomach roil, sweat prickling down my spine as the room spun. I blinked hard, determined not to fall apart in front of them all.

With effort, I managed to speak, needing to know:

"Colonel Parker, but I already have... That night, you clearly said yourself..."

My voice barely carried. I held my chin high, clinging to my last scrap of dignity, reminding myself I had every right to stand here in white.

He had said, if he returned—no matter crippled or sick—he’d marry me as his wife.

His promise echoed in my head, a secret whispered in the dark between tangled sheets and empty whiskey bottles.

For a moment, Colin’s face went blank, like he was searching for a memory he wasn’t sure was real.

He looked at me like I was a ghost from a dream—confused, guilty, lost in the past.

My sister dabbed at her eyes, voice delicate:

"Natalie, even if you’re desperate to marry into the Parker family as a mistress, you can’t wear my white wedding dress and veil."

Her tone was syrupy sweet, but every syllable cut. She pressed a lace handkerchief to her cheek, dabbing at invisible tears.

Her words drew every gaze to me.

Heads turned, whispers swirled. I felt the weight of their judgment crawling up my arms.

Suddenly, panic gripped me.

The world tilted under my feet. My knees buckled, and I grabbed the side of a pew for support.

All around, the gossip rippled: "Shameful," "Poor thing," "Didn’t see that coming." Each whisper stung deeper than a slap.

The white dress on my skin felt as hot as a branding iron—I wanted to rip it off and run.

The lace scratched at my skin, and I felt suddenly childish, like a little girl caught playing dress-up in clothes that never fit. I remembered Momma’s voice from years ago, teaching me to stand tall no matter who’s watching. But right now, I just wanted to disappear.

So I had misunderstood everything.

Of course I had. I’d built my whole world on borrowed promises and half-truths.

Seven days ago, Colin sent an urgent letter.

His handwriting was wild, the ink smudged. I’d read it so often the paper was nearly see-through.

He ordered me to bring my wedding dress to the city gate to welcome him home today.

I’d stared at that line for hours, hope fluttering. I pictured him sweeping me up, the town finally seeing me as more than Lillian’s shadow.

I thought he’d keep his word, and I was so sure I could finally belong.

I spun in front of my mirror, dreaming of a future that was never mine.

But what awaited me was only shame.

It felt like the floor dropped out from under me. Every eye was a spotlight, and I was frozen in the glare.

It was as if I’d been slapped in public, left raw and exposed.

My cheeks burned. My hands shook so hard I nearly lost my grip on my clutch.

Colin finally seemed to see me, his voice clipped and cold:

"Lillian and I have already been together. Of course, the position of wife should return to her."

He spoke like it was an afterthought, not even looking at me.

"You might’ve messed up, but if you keep your head down, maybe there’s still a place for you—just not as my wife."

The words hit like stones. I bit my cheek until I tasted blood.