The Abandoned Bride

Selena's Pov.

I stopped and looked at the fancy frames on the walls they were as big and strong as Arthur's arms.

The paintings were beautiful, they carried with them the most exquisite artistic value possible.

It wasn't just the painting though, our house was full of expensive things, like a fancy art museum, the air itself left off a scent of wealth. But money isn't a problem for either of us.

I had my business of decorations which has a target customer base of only the wealthiest. That's right, I'm very rich.

But so was Arthur, the CEO of a large business. We were the perfect couple.

"Everything is perfect, Selena," cooed a guest. They came to see the house that will soon be our new home.

Arthur and I were engaged. And this beautiful expensive house is going to be our new home.

"You and Arthur are the picture of happiness."

A polite smile danced upon my lips, but it did not reach the green pools of my eyes.

"Thank you," I replied, my voice a melody played on the strings of propriety.

The guests basked in the warmth of our supposed bliss, oblivious to the chill that had settled between Arthur and me.

After all, we were the perfect couple. A power couple who share immense respect for each other. The headlines featured us a lot. I was living the dream.

Arthur walked towards me and the guest, he wrapped his hard yet slender hands around my waist and our eyes met.

There was nothing but love in them. I couldn't wait to get married to him.

"Good evening," He greeted the guests. "Thank you for coming to check out our new home."

Everyone present saw the love between us, it was enough for them to envy it. Who wouldn't want a love life like ours?

"Selena, darling, how do you manage it all?" another guest asked in marvel. He gestured to the splendor that surrounded us.

"What can I say?" I threw my hands in the air.

"Careful planning I guess, we planned a lot of things between us. We are both incredibly busy but we found a way to equally split time for ourselves."

I turned to face Arthur. "But most importantly, we trust each other. We are one."

The guests could only watch us in awe as we shared a sweet yet short kiss.

"Selena." His voice, a familiar melody amidst the raucous symphony of celebration, pulled me from my reverie.

"Arthur," I replied, turning to face him. My eyes met his, and for a moment, we stood silent, two souls conversing without words.

"Are you... are you alright?" he asked, his gaze searching mine, perhaps for a glimpse of the girl he had once vowed to cherish 'til death did us part.

I nodded, clasping my hands together to still their betrayal. "Of course. Tonight is perfect."

"Almost as perfect as us," he added, a smile playing on his lips, though it did not reach the depths of his brown eyes.

"Almost," I echoed, allowing myself a small smile in return. In that instant, I clung fiercely to the shards of hope that pricked at my heart. Hope that whispered sweet nothings of love conquering contracts and deadlines.

"Selena, you know that..." Arthur began, his voice trailing off as he glanced at the opulent crowd that swirled around us, oblivious to the silent battle we fought.

"Shh," I hushed him gently, laying a finger upon his lips. "Let's just enjoy tonight. We can outrun time, even if just for a moment."

As I withdrew my hand, I felt the ghost of his kiss upon my fingertips. It was a specter of affection, but it fueled my hope, nonetheless. The belief that the love which once burned brightly between us could defy the constraints of legalities and documents-that it could be more than just a beautifully crafted illusion.

"Come, let's show them how it's done," I said, taking his arm, and guiding us toward the center of the ballroom.

With each step, the murmur of silks and the gentle clink of fine china were the chorus of our slow descent into uncertainty. Yet, as we danced, my heart dared to beat a rhythm of hope.

For in the ebb and flow of our movements, in the soft pressure of his hand upon my waist, I found solace. I savored the warmth of his presence, allowing it to chase away the chill of doubt.

"Remember this," I whispered against his ear, "no matter what tomorrow brings."

"Always," he murmured back, his breath warm against my skin.

As the music swelled, so did my conviction.

Amidst the grandeur and the glittering façade, my love for him remained steadfast, a beacon in the gathering storm.

And so, we shared a moment in a fiery dance, we resembled two majestic birds, and we moved with such precision one could easily assume we were professional dancers.

Everyone watched us in awe and envy. I swear I saw some of them wipe tears from their eyes. We were simply too elegant.

Because in the end, love was the one detail that no contract could ever capture, and no expiration date could ever truly claim.

The last notes of our dance lingered in the air, a haunting echo that clung to my senses as Arthur's grip on my hand began to loosen.

I searched his face, a silent plea spilling from my eyes. The party continued around us, but we were statues amid motion, two people on the precipice.

"Selena," he started, his voice barely reaching me above the crescendo of chattering guests and the soft clatter of silverware against bone china.

His brown eyes, usually so full of light, now held a somber depth that I had hoped never to see directed at me.

"Arthur, what is it?" My heart raced, beating out a staccato rhythm of impending doom. I felt the delicate fabric of my gown brush against my skin as I leaned closer, willing him to say anything but what I feared was coming.

"Selena, I..." He paused, and the space between those words filled with all the things left unsaid, with every shard of happiness we'd ever shared. "I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?" I asked, though I knew. Deep down, beneath the veneer of hope I had meticulously applied, I knew.

"Us, Selena. Our wedding, let's cancel it, let's... Break up.

"His voice was a hammer, and with each word, he struck at the foundation of my world.

"No." It was a reflex, an instinctive denial of a reality too harsh to accept.

"No, you don't mean that. We love each other. That's real, Arthur. That's not something we just... end."

"Selena-" He reached out, but I stepped back, my movements jagged, uncoordinated.

"Please," I said, desperation sharpening my voice to a keen edge.

"We can fix it, whatever it is, let's fix it. I don't want to give up on us just like that. Love isn't a game, It's us, Arthur. You and me, we have been through a lot already."

"Selena, it's not that simple." The calm in his voice was a stark contrast to the tumult within me. "I've made up my mind."

"Then make it up again!" I cried, hands reaching for him, grasping at the man who held my heart in his careful, calculated grip.

"Change your mind, Arthur. For us, for all that we've been through."

"Selena, I'm sorry." There was finality there, a door closing softly yet irrevocably.

"Sorry doesn't keep me warm at night!" I lashed out, my voice cracking under the strain of emotions too powerful to contain. "Sorry doesn't give me back the years, the dreams!"

"Selena..."

But his pity was the last thing I wanted. I turned away, my vision blurred by tears that refused to fall. Because to cry was to admit defeat, and despite everything, I wasn't ready to let not of him, not of us.

"Then go," I whispered, my voice nothing more than a breath lost in the cacophony of celebration around us. "Leave if that's what you want. But know this: I believed in us, Arthur. Even if you didn't."

Selena's Pov.

Every step I took got harder, my heart broken by a love that now had no place to belong. The quiet after he left was so loud.

I touched the cold marble countertop, following the lines that looked like rivers on its surface. They seemed to tease me with their endless flow, while my own life felt suddenly stopped.

"Arthur, please..." The words tumbled out, raw and ragged, but the room merely echoed back emptiness.

There was no response sign of the man who had once filled these halls with laughter and promises.

Promises that now lay as shattered as the vase I knocked over in my tremulous state, the crash thunderous applause for the end of us.

The tears, those traitors, cascaded down my cheeks unbidden.

They scorched trails through my foundation, laying bare the grief that makeup could no longer conceal.

My reflection in the window pane was a portrait of despair: long, wavy brown hair clinging to a face too pale, green eyes dulled by the agony of loss.

I stumbled through the mansion we once shared, each opulent room a mausoleum for memories.

The grand piano, silent and accusing, where Arthur's fingers would dance to create music that wrapped around us like a warm embrace.

The photographs smiling from their frames, immortalized moments when our love felt invincible.

My breath hitched, body wracked with sobs that clawed their way out from the depths of my soul.

The weight on my chest was a relentless pressure, an ache so profound it threatened to crush me. I sank to the floor, my knees unable to bear the burden any longer, the cold tile a stark contrast to the warmth of his arms that would never hold me again.

"Was it ever real?" I whispered to the void, the question a spectral whisper against the walls that seemed to close in around me. Each jagged breath was a struggle as if the very air was tainted with the poison of our broken vows.

"Real enough to hurt this much," I answered myself because there was no one else left. The emptiness engulfed me, a chasm opening beneath my feet, threatening to swallow me whole. And yet, I remained, a solitary figure amidst the ruins of a fairy tale that had turned into a tragedy.

"Goodbye, Arthur." The words were a surrender, a white flag raised in a battle where love had been the casualty. With nothing but the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin, I rose unsteadily, a resolve hardening within the shards of my fractured heart.

I faced the remnants of our life together, knowing that when dawn broke, it would be upon a world irrevocably altered.

A world where Selena Hall would have to learn to exist without Arthur Gonzalez. But in that moment, under the cloak of night, I allowed myself to grieve for the woman who believed love was forever for the love that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand, lost to the winds of change.

I peeled myself away from the cold embrace of our marble floor, the once comforting coolness now a biting chill against my skin.

My limbs, heavy with the weight of loss, carried me to the wide windows, where the first timid rays of dawn were painting the sky a soft, sorrowful blue.

"New beginnings," I whispered to the reflection staring back at me. The woman in the glass was a stranger, her green eyes dimmed by the storm that had raged through her life. Yet, there was something else, a flicker of determination that hadn't been extinguished. It sparked, faint but insistent, a testament to the resilience that pulsed beneath my bruised exterior.

I lingered there, watching the sunrise herald a day I'd never imagined facing alone. Each golden beam felt like a gentle nudge, urging me towards the future without Arthur, without the illusion of our perfect life together. The ache remained, a constant echo of what was lost, but it no longer consumed me whole.

"Enough," I said, the word a declaration, a promise. My hands moved of their own accord, pulling drawers open, and sweeping the remnants of a shared existence into cardboard boxes.

Dresses we picked out together, trinkets from travels, photographs that captured smiles as brittle as thin ice relics of a past I needed to leave behind.

The empty walls echoed with the silence of departure, each thud of a sealed box a step further away from heartbreak. I wrapped my fingers around the locket he gave me on our first anniversary, feeling its cool metal press into my palm.

A symbol of forever that was meant to be unbreakable. With a final, resolute breath, I placed it atop the pile.

Forever had an expiration date, and mine had come.

"Selena Hall doesn't end here," I murmured, steeling myself with each syllable. My gaze swept over the barren rooms one last time before resting on the front door.

It stood ajar, a portal between what was and what could be.

I stepped out, the morning air kissing my cheeks with the promise of new horizons. The city that had cradled my love story now seemed too small, too saturated with memories that clung to me like shadows.

It was time to chase the light, to find a place where Selena Hall could rebuild, rediscover, and maybe, just maybe, learn to love again.

With resolve solidifying in every stride, I walked toward the cab waiting at the curb, my heart pounding a rhythm of hopeful defiance.

"To the airport," I instructed, glancing back only once at the life I was leaving behind.

As the taxi merged onto the bustling streets, the rising sun cast a warm glow over everything it touched, including me. A new day, a new beginning, and a journey toward healing, wherever it may lead.

Selena's Pov.

What do you do when life throws shit at you? You clean yourself up and push back.

That was what I did. After my breakup with Arthur, I was left in a dump, I lost most of my clients due to a scandal that depicted me as a gold digger which was why Arthur left.

But that didn't stop me...

"More to the left, please," I directed one of the staff members, pointing towards a cluster of crystal vases. I didn't like the way they were aligned.

I watched over the gigantic hall that was to become a venue for a major event. I was tasked with this job. It was the first major gig that I took in many years.

I went from a rich businesswoman to an average Joe, but at last, things are looking to become more bright.

I wanted everything to be perfect. From the decorations to every single element in the hall. I am a perfectionist, and I refuse to settle for anything that's not the best.

I adjusted a silver candelabra, my fingers grazed over the cool metal. I made sure it stood as straight and proud as I had to be in this industry.

"Perfect." I huffed with a smile depicting my satisfaction.

"My my," My assistant, Tess walked to me. "The gentle flicker of candlelight cast shadows that played across the walls." She reviewed.

"Thank you," I said pleasantly.

There's this joy with having everything go as intended. Every chair, every fork, every note of the string quartet's serenade had been carefully curated under my watchful eye.

My client was a wealthy business conglomerate whose reputation for opulence was only matched by my grand events. They chose to trust me with this night.

And I will deliver with the best of my abilities.

"Selena, the guests are raving about the ambiance," the maître d' whispered.

His words stroked my ego, but I composed myself and wore a faint smile. I tried not to jump around the place like a little girl. It's one thing to work hard, but being appreciated and complemented makes all the stress worth it.

"Ensure the champagne remains chilled and the glasses never empty," I replied with a soft voice. I made sure it carried the weight of unspoken authority.

It wasn't just about the physical elements-it was about creating an experience, a seamless transition from moment to moment where guests could drown in the luxury, oblivious to the meticulous choreography behind the scenes.

"Of course, Miss Hall," he said before slipping away, blending into the orchestrated rhythm of waitstaff and attendees.

Tonight, like every event before, was more than a party; it was a showcase of my capacity to create beauty from chaos, to weave together threads of desire and expectation into a tapestry that left no room for error, for heartbreak.

For me, this was more than a profession. With each successful event, I stitched another patch over the frayed edges of my past, proving to myself that what lay behind me was nothing compared to the future I was building breathtaking gala at a time.

I glide through the crowd, a whisper of silk and certainty.

The long, wavy tendrils of my brown hair catch whispers of light from the crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow on my face as I scan the revelry with piercing green eyes-windows to a soul tempered by trials.

Each step is measured, deliberate; a dance among the shadows of joy I orchestrate but seldom feel. They don't see the steel beneath the soft exterior, the resilience forged in the fire of betrayal.

A flute of champagne finds its way into my hand, the bubbles mirroring the fizz of laughter around me.

I take a sip, the crispness sharp against my tongue, a stark contrast to the sweetness of reminiscence that threatens to invade my senses.

It begins a fleeting sigh of memory luxury that once cradled my life like a lover's promise. Arthur.

His name alone conjures a world draped in velvet and gold, a time when opulence was the backdrop to our love.

I remember the gleam of his dark hair, the depth of his brown eyes ocean I willingly drowned in. He was more than a man; he was an epoch in my history, a chapter written in diamonds and sealed with a kiss.

We were the epitome of desire, a portrait of perfection etched in the minds of those who envied the dream we lived.

Our days were wrapped in the embrace of affluence, nights lost in the labyrinths of passion.

But even the grandest empires cast shadows, and ours grew along with the ticking of a clock counting down to the end of a contract expiry date on 'forever.'

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss Hall?" a voice cuts through the haze of my reverie, sharp as the break of dawn.

"Exquisite as ever," I reply, my tone even, belying the storm of emotions that churn beneath.

Satisfaction is a stranger I entertain from a distance, a guest that lingers just beyond reach. With each word I speak, I mend the cracks in my facade, painting over the past with a smile practiced in the art of deception.

"Your vision always exceeds expectation," they continue, oblivious to the ache within my chest, the silent scream of a heart that knows too well the price of perfection.

"Thank you," I murmur, my gaze drifting over the sea of faces-none of which are his. Arthur's absence is a specter that haunts the corners of grand rooms, a chill that lingers despite the warmth of success.

Once, I believed love would triumph, that the turn of a page could not erase the story we'd written. But the ink had faded, the paper torn, leaving nothing but echoes of a symphony that ended too soon.

With each step I take, I move further away from the ghost of what was, my spirit buoyed by the knowledge that this, too, shall pass.

The party swirls around me, a vortex of celebration that I command yet remain apart from, a solitary figure navigating a world that whispers of lost loves and newfound strength.

In the quiet space between heartbeats, I made a silent vow to rise from the ashes of the events of the previous day and to kindle a flame of hope in the darkness of my heartbreak.

For though love may leave, life beckons with the promise of a new dawn, and I am nothing if not a survivor, ready to face the day.

Every day I took a moment to question my decision. Was it the right thing? Could I have stayed back and fought for his love? Would he have changed his decision had I tried a little bit more?

And every day, the same answer came to me – yes.

Yes, it was the right thing. Yes, I could have stayed and fought for his love. Yes, he would have changed his decision if I tried.

But then I would have to ask myself one more question – what was the use?

Why was I trying so hard?

Why was I trying to salvage a relationship with someone who did not value me enough to stay back? Why was I fighting for a love that was not reciprocated?

It was then I realized that it was better off this way. I did not want to be in a relationship that did not bring out the best in me.

The only person I had to depend on was myself.

That was why when the call came, I wasn't sure what to do.

It was the first time we had spoken after the split.

I stared at my phone when it came in, trying to choose between answering it and ignoring him.

It was his voice on the other end that got me.

"Selena."

His voice was deep and soothing.

It sounded different from before.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"I hope you've been well."

"Yes."

"Good."

The silence on the line was almost deafening.

"Listen, Selena," he began, "I want to talk to you about something. Can we meet?"

"Meet?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Just a talk. Nothing else."

I sighed.

"Fine. Where?"

"You pick the place. I'm fine with wherever you choose, to be honest."

"Fine. Meet me at the cafe on the corner of Fifth Avenue. I'll be there."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye, Selena."

I hung up the phone.

What did he want to talk to me about?