Chapter 5: A Wedding Without a Promise

Soon, it was the day of the wedding. I barely slept the night before.

The morning dawned gray and cold, the kind of weather that makes you want to stay in bed. But the church bells tolled, and there was no turning back.

All dressed up, I was led to the little church.

My dress was simple, borrowed from the pastor’s wife, but it fit well enough. I clutched a bouquet of wildflowers, my hands shaking just a little.

I thought, as St. Gabriel’s star choirboy, Ethan’s wedding would be huge. But I was sorely disappointed.

The pews were half-empty, and the few guests in attendance whispered behind their programs. It felt more like a funeral than a celebration.

There were only a couple dozen people—not even as many as show up for the Christmas pageant.

A handful of townsfolk, some family friends, and a smattering of choir members. The air was thick with tension, everyone waiting for something to go wrong.

Ethan, dressed in a crisp black suit, stood at the altar waiting for me. He was tall and elegant, cool and distant, like a marble statue in a snowy graveyard.

He barely looked at me as I walked down the aisle. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on some point just over my shoulder.

I almost cried—not from emotion, but disappointment.

I’d imagined fireworks, grand declarations of love. Instead, it was all awkward silences and forced smiles.

The officiant was the pastor, the white-bearded elder. He smiled kindly and said, "Sweetheart, these are strange times, so we’re keeping things simple. Hope you don’t mind."

He squeezed my hand, his eyes warm but tired. I forced a smile, nodding politely.

Mind? Of course I mind! Jeez!

I bit back the urge to roll my eyes. This wasn’t the fairy tale I’d signed up for.

But honestly, my dad had caused so much chaos in the church before, so even if I minded, what could I say?

I glanced at the stained glass, wondering how many other brides had stood here, wishing they were somewhere else.

The male lead was everyone’s favorite of the younger generation, carrying everyone’s hopes. I’m sure everyone knew this wedding wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.

Whispers floated through the pews—rumors, speculation, a thousand unanswered questions. But no one dared say a word out loud.

The ceremony started and ended. Just like that.

The vows were recited, rings exchanged, and before I knew it, it was over. No music, no fanfare—just a handful of polite applause and awkward hugs.

There wasn’t even a blood pact segment. Thank God.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay after all.

St. Gabriel’s and Ethan weren’t dumb—they were just using the wedding as...

as a shield, not a promise. I had no idea what price they’d demand next.