Before the Wedding, the Dutiful Bride Flew to Iceland Alone Chapter 02

Before the Wedding, the Dutiful Bride Flew to Iceland Alone Chapter 02

I took a step back, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m tired. I think I’ll head out.”

I was halfway down the hall when I remembered my coat was still draped over the back of the sofa.

I doubled back for it, but the private room’s door hadn’t shut all the way.

Inside, someone was talking to Miles in a low voice.

“Miles, you’re seriously not going after her?”

“Did you see her face just now? All the color was gone.”

Miles was quiet for a second. When he spoke, his voice was completely indifferent.

“Chloe’s not going to be mad.”

“She’s too sensible for that. She’ll sleep it off and be fine tomorrow.”

My hand froze on the doorknob.

A second later, he went on.

“But you guys put Serena in a really awkward spot back there.”

“I should go comfort her.”

I stood there gripping the doorknob, the cold seeping into my fingertips.

Sensible. The word was a dull blade.

It didn’t cut cleanly; it just kept working its way deeper.

I didn’t go back inside. Instead, I walked out of the venue, pulled out my phone, and sent a text to my wedding planner.

[Cancel the wedding.]

A minute later, my phone buzzed. The wedding planner.

[Miss Bennett, are you sure you want to go through with canceling?]

[You’ve been working on this for over six months.]

[The flowers, the lighting, the invitations, the place cards. You picked out every single detail yourself.]

[It would be such a shame to let all of that go.]

I looked down at the mockup photos she’d sent earlier.

I remembered what I’d wanted in the beginning: white camellias everywhere.

But Miles had taken one look and said, “Serena thinks camellias are too plain.”

“A wedding should have more life than that.”

So the camellias became the red roses Serena liked.

I’d wanted soft gold lighting.

Miles had said, “Serena thinks warm orange looks better in pictures.”

I’d wanted the invitations with simple embossing.

Miles had said, “Just go with what Serena says. She’s got great taste.”

It didn’t hit me until now.

The wedding I’d spent six months carefully planning had been quietly reshaped into everything Serena wanted.

And all I had left in it was my name.

The planner texted again.

[Are you really sure about this?]

I stared at the venue photo, at a wedding I couldn’t even recognize anymore.

And I smiled.

I typed back.

[I’m sure.]

[I’ll cover all the costs.]