Shattered Vow

The scent of fresh roses filled the air, their delicate petals woven into elegant arrangements that lined the grand hall of the Blue Crescent Hotel. A mild melody played from the string quartet in the corner, blending seamlessly with the gentle hum of excited whispers. The chandeliers above cast a golden glow, illuminating the cream and gold theme of the wedding decor. Everything was just as she had ever imagined.

Kimberly stood before her full-length mirror, her heart pounding in her chest. She barely recognized herself. The strapless ivory gown hugged her slender frame, the lace bodice intricately embroidered with tiny pearls. A veil of the finest tulle cascaded down her back, catching the light as she moved. Her long, dark brown curls were swept to one side, adorned with delicate crystal pins.

"This is it," she whispered to herself, her voice barely above a breath. Everything about her wedding gown was just so perfect and beautiful.

Samantha, her best friend and maid of honor, adjusted the folds of the gown. "You look like a goddess," she said.

Kimberly turned to her. "Do you think Mason will cry when he sees me?"

Samantha smirked. "If he doesn't, I will personally slap him for being an emotionless fool, girl, he will be the luckiest to wife you."

A nervous laugh bubbled from Kimberly's lips. She had dreamt of this day since she was a little girl, playing pretend weddings with her dolls. And now, here she was about to marry the love of her life. What would she ever ask for again.

Karen, her mother, stepped into the room, her eyes misty. "Oh, sweetheart, you look breathtaking my little girl is now a bride." She cupped Kimberly's face with warm hands. "Your father would have been so proud of you."

A lump formed in Kimberly's throat. Her father had passed away five years ago, leaving a void nothing could fill. "I wish he were here, mom" she whispered.

"He is," Karen replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "He's watching you now, and smiling."

A knock at the door interrupted them. The wedding planner, Miranda, peeked in. "We're ready, ma'am. The guests are seated, and Mason should already be at the altar, we don't want to keep the groom waiting."

Kimberly inhaled sharply. This was happening.

Samantha grabbed her bouquet, an elegant mix of white peonies and blush roses, and handed it to her. "Deep breaths. You've got this."

Kimberly nodded, gripping the bouquet as if it were an anchor. Excitement mixed with nerves as she followed her bridal party down the hall.

The moment she stepped to the entrance of the ballroom, the music changed. The first notes of Canon in D filled the air, and all heads turned toward her with smiling faces.

Kimberly barely noticed. Her gaze sought Mason at the altar. He should have been there, standing tall in his black tuxedo, waiting for her with love filled eyes.

But he wasn't.

The spot where he should have been was empty.

A murmur ran through the crowd. Confused whispers everywhere.

Kimberly's heart clenched. Maybe he was just running late? Maybe he had a last-minute issue?

She turned to Miranda, whose face had turned pale. "Where is he?" She asked

The wedding planner fumbled with her clipboard. "I,I don't know. He should be here."

A strange numbness settled over Kimberly. This had to be a mistake. Mason loved her. He wouldn't do this to her.

Kimberly couldn't hold back her tears, "No, No, he's supposed to be here, he can't do this to me, Mason loves me, we've been waiting for this day."

She turned to Samantha, but her best friend's expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a tight line. "Maybe he got stuck in traffic," Samantha said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Karen stepped beside her, gripping her hand. "Sweetheart, let's wait a few minutes. I'm sure he'll show up."

Minutes passed. The whispers grew more louder.

Kimberly's breathing became shallow. Her chest tightened. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink of something dark and terrifying.

Miranda's phone rang. She answered quickly, stepping aside. Kimberly's eyes locked onto her, searching for any clue, she needed an explanation.

Then Miranda turned back, her face drained of color.

She swallowed. "Kimberly... I,I just spoke to Mason's best man."

The world slowed, the atmosphere was calm.

"He's not coming," Miranda said, her voice barely a whisper.

The words crashed into Kimberly like a violent wave, knocking the breath from her lungs.

Not coming.

Not coming.

The words echoed in her skull, sharp and cruel.

She shook her head. "No... that can't be right."

Miranda's gaze was full of pity. "I'm so sorry."

The ballroom erupted. Guests gasped. Some stood, murmuring in shock. Kimberly felt her mother's grip tighten around her hand, as if trying to keep her from collapsing.

Samantha was the first to snap. "What the hell is wrong with him? He just... decided not to show up? No call? No message? Nothing?"

Miranda hesitated. "His best man said Mason... left town last night."

Kimberly's knees buckled like she was loosing her stamina, she couldn't feel her legs anymore. Samantha caught her before she could hit the ground.

"He left?" Kimberly's voice was barely above a whisper.

Miranda nodded. "He booked a flight. No one knows where he went."

The words punched through her, knocking the air from her lungs.

How? Why?

She had spent years with this man. She had built a life around him. They had made promises.

Her vision blurred. Her hands shook.

Karen turned to Miranda. "Did he say anything? A reason?"

Miranda hesitated before answering, as if unsure whether she should say it aloud. But Kimberly needed to know.

"He left a message," she said quietly. "He said, 'Tell Kimberly I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore, she will get someone to love her.'"

A sharp, strangled sound left Kimberly's throat.

Sorry? That was all he had to say?

The guests were staring at her. Some with pity, others with shock. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the day she has long dreamt of. Instead, she was standing alone at the altar, humiliated, and abandoned.

Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Samantha's grip tightened on her shoulders. "Kim, say the word and I'll ruin his life."

Kimberly let out a hollow laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes. "He already ruined mine."

Her mother tried to pull her into an embrace, but Kimberly stepped back. She couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in. The weight of every gaze in the room crushed her.

Then, without another word, she turned and ran.

The ballroom doors swung open as she rushed through them, her wedding gown trailing behind her. The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor echoed around her, but she didn't stop, she just kept running .

She ran past the floral archways, past the confused hotel staff, past the curious onlookers.

She burst through the doors of the hotel and into the open air. The city skyline stretched before her, indifferent to her pain.

A sob tore from her throat. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to hold herself together.

This wasn't happening.

This was a nightmare.

And she didn't know how to wake up.

The wedding dress was still on the floor.

A crumpled mess of lace and tulle, discarded in the corner of her bedroom like a forgotten relic of another life. Kimberly stared at it from her bed, where she had been lying for hours, feeling numb. The once-pristine fabric was now wrinkled, the delicate beading catching the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Three days gone already.

It had been three days since Mason abandoned her. Since her world cracked open and swallowed her whole. Since she had walked into her apartment, still in her gown, and collapsed onto the floor, too numb to cry.

She had barely moved since.

A knock at the door broke the silence.

"Kim?" Samantha's voice was muffled but insistent. "Open the door, please open up."

Kimberly turned her head slightly, staring blankly at the door but making no move to get up.

A sigh. Then the jingle of keys. Of course, Samantha had a spare.

The door opened, and in walked her best friend, carrying a plastic bag of takeout. The rich aroma of food filled the air, but it only made Kimberly feel nauseous.

Samantha stopped in her tracks when she saw her. "Oh, honey... you don't have to suffer like this anymore"

Kimberly must have looked awful. She hadn't showered. Her long brown hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes were puffy, rimmed with exhaustion and tears.

Samantha set the food on the nightstand and sat at the edge of the bed. "I brought Thai food. Your favorite, still hot."

"I'm not hungry," Kimberly murmured, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Yeah, I figured," Samantha said, crossing her arms. "Which is why I'm going to force-feed you if I have to."

Kimberly let out a weak laugh. Samantha always knew how to push, but right now, Kimberly didn't have the energy to fight.

Samantha softened. "Babe, you can't just stay in bed forever."

"Why not?" Kimberly whispered, staring at the ceiling. "It's not like I have anywhere to be."

Samantha frowned. "You have a life, Kim. A job. Friends who love you. You can't let him take all of that away from you, too."

"He already did." Kim whispered as tears drop down her eyes.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Samantha reached out and squeezed Kimberly's hand. "Mason is an idiot. A coward. And he doesn't deserve your tears, you are too perfect for him, and he is so imperfect for you"

Kimberly swallowed, her throat aching. "Then why does it still hurt?"

"That's because you truly loved him." Samantha's voice was gentle but firm. "And because he was supposed to love you back, but too bad he didn't."

Tears spilled down Kimberly's cheeks, silent at first, then harder, sobs wracking her body. Samantha pulled her into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she cried.

It wasn't fair.

The man she had trusted, the man she had built a future with, had walked away without a second thought. She had given him everything her heart, her time, her love and he had discarded her like she meant nothing to him.

Samantha held her as she wept, whispering soft reassurances.

When the worst of it passed, Kimberly pulled away, wiping at her swollen eyes. "I feel pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," Samantha said firmly. "You're heartbroken. There's a difference."

Kimberly exhaled shakily. "I don't even know what to do anymore. I wake up, and for a second, I forget. And then it hits me all over again."

Samantha's expression softened. "One day at a time, Kim. That's all you have to do right now. Just... get through today. And then tomorrow. And the next, soon you will be fine."

Kimberly swallowed. "And what if I never stop feeling like this?"

"You will," Samantha promised. "I don't know when, but you will, am so sure about it."

They sat in silence for a while.

Then Samantha nudged the takeout bag toward her. "Now eat. Or I swear to God, I will spoon-feed you like a toddler."

Kimberly let out a weak, tired chuckle and reached for the food. It wasn't much, but it was something.

And for now, that had to be enough.

The next morning, Kimberly forced herself out of bed.

Her body felt heavy, like every bone was made of lead. The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of stale sadness, unwashed sheets, untouched meals, and the faint trace of flowers from the bouquet she had thrown into the sink the night she got home.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at her reflection.

The woman looking back at her was not the Kimberly she knew.

Her green eyes were dull, her eye bags where dark and swollen, the glow in them snuffed out like a candle. Her skin, usually warm and radiant, was pale, washed out by the lack of sleep and food. She pressed her fingers against her cheek, tracing the dark circles beneath her eyes.

How had it come to this?

A week ago, she was trying on different wedding dresses, giggling with Samantha about floral arrangements and honeymoon destinations. A week ago, she was happy.

Now, she could barely recognized herself.

Her chest tightened, the familiar wave of grief crashing over her. But this time, she didn't sink into it. She couldn't.

She turned on the shower, stepping under the hot water, letting it wash over her like a baptism. Maybe, just maybe, it would cleanse the ache, the regret, the anger that clung to her like a second skin.

By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she felt marginally better. Not good. But not as empty as before.

That was something.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

For a second, her heart jumped. Some stupid part of her thought maybe it's him.

But when she picked it up, her stomach twisted. It wasn't Mason.

It was an unknown number.

She almost ignored it, but something told her to check. When she opened the message, her breath caught in her throat.

Kim, I don't even know what to say. I know I hurt you. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But please, can we talk? Mason.

Kimberly's fingers tightened around the phone.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

She could barely process the words, barely breathe through the emotions that slammed into her.

After days of silence. Days of no explanation, no closure now he wanted to talk?

She clenched her jaw, emotions warring inside her.

Did he expect her to just listen? To hear whatever pathetic excuse he had and what forgive him? Pretend none of it happened?

Her hands trembled as she typed a response.

There's nothing to talk about.

She hovered over the send button.

Then, in a moment of impulsive fury, she deleted it.

No.

He didn't deserve a response.

With a sharp breath, she tossed the phone onto the bed, her hands shaking.

She would not let him do this to her.

Atleast, Not again.

By noon, Samantha had forced Kimberly out of the apartment.

"You need air," Samantha had said. "Fresh air. Sunshine. Anything but not your four walls and heartbreak."

Kimberly had protested, but in the end, she found herself at their favorite coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans and vanilla curling through the air.

The chatter of people, the clinking of cups, the hum of life it was overwhelming.

She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready to be around people who didn't know that her life had shattered.

"Stop looking like you're about to cry," Samantha muttered, stirring her latte. "We're here to distract you, not send you into another breakdown, come on girl, don't be so sober even on the outside."

Kimberly exhaled. "Sorry. I just... it feels weird."

"What does?"

"Being here," she admitted. "Like, everything is the same, but I'm not."

Samantha's gaze softened. "That's because everything is the same, Kim. The world doesn't stop just because we're in pain. It sucks, but it's reality."

Kimberly swallowed. "I feel like I'm stuck in this... fog. Like I'm walking through a life that doesn't belong to me anymore."

Samantha squeezed her hand. "That's grief, babe. It's normal for you to feel that way, that's part of the process."

Normal.

She didn't feel normal. She felt like a ghost of herself.

But instead of saying that, she took a sip of her coffee. It was warm. Familiar. A small comfort in a world that no longer made sense.

Samantha smiled approvingly. "See? Small steps. You're out of the house, you're drinking coffee. That's progress, so cheers to that."

Kimberly let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Progress."

She wasn't sure if she actually believed it.

But for Samantha's sake, she tried.