The salt-laced wind whipped Stella’s hair across her face as she stood on the cliff edge, the vast, inky ocean stretching before them like a dark, shimmering curtain. A full moon, a luminous pearl in the velvet sky, cast an ethereal glow on the scene. The cliff face, rugged and ancient, formed a natural amphitheater for their ceremony.
Before them, the pastor, a kindly man with eyes that crinkled at the corners, adjusted his spectacles, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Theo, his hand clasped tightly in Stella’s, squeezed gently, his thumb stroking her knuckles. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, held a depth of tenderness that Stella found both comforting and breathtaking.
“I know this isn’t strictly necessary,” the pastor began, his voice a warm baritone that carried easily on the night air, “but tradition dictates I ask: Does anyone object to this union?” He paused, a playful glint in his eye, prompting a nervous laugh from a few guests.
Stella, however, felt a prickle of unease. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping across the assembled guests, their faces illuminated by the moonlight and the flickering candlelight.
The vastness of the ocean and the sheer drop behind her amplified her anxiety.
Theo, sensing her discomfort, leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “No one’s going to stop this, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. His touch, a silent promise of unwavering support, calmed her racing heart.
“I know,” Stella replied, a shaky smile gracing her lips. “I’m just… checking.” She squeezed his hand in return, the gesture a silent affirmation of their love and their commitment.
“Oh! I guess none then. Let’s proceed-” The pastor’s words hung in the air, unfinished.
A hush fell over the gathering as a woman, her figure slender and cloaked in shadow, began to walk down the aisle. Each step she took seemed to echo in the stillness, her presence somehow both commanding and heartbreaking. She carried a small child, a little girl with wide, innocent eyes, her face hidden in the woman’s shawl. The child’s small hand clutched a faded, worn photograph.
Stella’s breath hitched. A wave of apprehension washed over her, a chilling premonition. “Who… who is that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rising tide. Her gaze was fixed on the approaching woman, a mixture of fear and fascination etched on her features.
Theo, his hand still clasped in hers, froze, his body stiffening as if he too sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
The joyous anticipation that had filled the air moments before was replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the woman’s footsteps and the ceaseless roar of the ocean.
Theo’s release of Stella’s hand was abrupt, a stark contrast to the gentle squeeze he’d given her moments before.
Stella’s gaze snapped to his gaze, her eyes wide with alarm.
The casual, almost careless gesture felt like a betrayal, a silent admission of something unspoken.
“Do you know her?” Stella’s voice was sharp, edged with a rising panic.
The pastor, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced by a concerned frown, stepped forward. “Who are you, lady?” he asked, his voice firm but measured, attempting to restore order to the chaotic scene.
The woman met Stella’s gaze directly, her expression a mixture of defiance and sorrow. “I’m Jessica,” she announced, her voice clear and strong, “and this is my daughter, Tracey.” She gently adjusted the shawl around the small girl, who remained hidden from view.
Jessica’s eyes, dark and intense, held a simmering anger. “You look so fine,” she continued, her voice dripping with a bitter sarcasm, “and you don’t deserve someone like him.” She punctuated her words by jabbing a finger towards
Theo, the gesture is a blatant accusation.
“What are you talking about?” Stella’s voice trembled, barely a whisper. Her eyes flashed, the initial fear replaced by a fierce protectiveness. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice hardening with each syllable, her glare intense enough to melt ice.
Theo, his face pale and strained, met Jessica’s gaze with a mixture of guilt and defiance. “Don’t listen to her,” he urged Stella, his voice tight with desperation. His eyes pleaded with her to believe him, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
A sudden commotion erupted from the assembled guests.
Brandon, Theo’s brother, rose abruptly from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “Why are you still denying it, huh?” he shouted, his voice booming across the clifftop.
Alpha Raven, his father, reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to restrain his son. “Stop, Brandon!” He commanded, his voice laced with authority, but his words were met with defiance.
“No, Dad! Stella deserves to know the truth!” Brandon insisted, his voice shaking with emotion. He pushed past his father, his steps purposeful, his gaze fixed on Jessica. He moved towards her, a silent promise of confrontation hanging in the air.
Stella, completely bewildered, felt a wave of nausea wash over her. “What truth?” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rising din. Confusion and fear warred within her, threatening to overwhelm her.
Elder Remus, a respected figure in their community, also reacted to the unfolding drama. His face was a mask of fury. “What is the truth?” he demanded, his voice echoing the growing unrest.
Alpha Raven, his face etched with worry, placed a reassuring hand on Elder Remus’s shoulder. “Calm down, Elder,” he said, his voice strained but controlled. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon him, his attempts to maintain order a testament to his leadership.
But the truth, whatever it was, threatened to shatter the fragile peace of the ceremony, leaving everyone present suspended in a state of stunned disbelief.
Elder Remus’s voice, usually calm and measured, cracked with barely controlled fury. He pushed back from his chair, the sound of the wood scraping against the stone floor echoing in the sudden silence. His face, usually etched with wisdom and serenity, was contorted with anger. “I can’t do that, Alpha Raven!” he declared, his words sharp and accusatory. He turned his gaze towards Theo, his eyes blazing. “What is happening right now, Theo? Who is this intruder-this woman-who has the audacity, the sheer guts, to ruin your wedding?” His voice rose, a torrent of righteous indignation.
Theo flinched at the harshness of Elder Remus’s words, but before he could respond, a sharp intake of breath from Stella silenced the room. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny, to explain… but the words caught in his throat. He saw the hurt and confusion mirrored in Stella’s eyes, and the realization of his own actions hit him with the force of a physical blow. He looked at Stella, his gaze pleading for understanding, for forgiveness.
“So… you know her?” Stella’s voice was barely a whisper.
Theo was about to deny it, to weave a desperate lie, when Brandon’s voice cut through the tense silence.
Brandon’s words hung in the air, a stark, undeniable truth. “Jessica is my brother’s wife,” he stated, his voice calm but firm, “and Tracey is their daughter.”
A stunned silence descended upon the gathering. No one dared to speak, the gravity of the revelation settling upon them like a shroud.
Stella’s voice, though trembling, held a steely edge. “Wait… is that true, Theo?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for an answer. She fought to keep her composure, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her.
Theo glared at his brother, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and resentment. He took a deep breath, the air whistling through his clenched teeth, a silent admission of defeat. He rose, his movements stiff and deliberate, and walked towards Brandon.
Alpha Raven, his face etched with a mixture of shock and disappointment, intervened before the brothers could engage in a physical confrontation. “What are you saying, Theo? You already have a family?” he asked, his voice low and strained, the question laced with a deep sense of betrayal.
“You hear me right, Dad,” Theo replied, his gaze still locked on Brandon, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Brandon, unable to resist a final jab, smirked at his brother. “You can’t hide everything, brother,” he taunted, his voice dripping with a mixture of satisfaction and pity.
“Really?” Theo’s voice was a challenge, a spark of defiance igniting in his eyes. But before the brothers could escalate their conflict, Alpha Raven stepped between them, his authority undeniable.
“Stop!” Alpha Raven roared, his voice silencing the gathering. He pointed a finger at Theo, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You, go to your family. And I don’t want to see you here again!” He then turned his attention to Brandon, his voice hardening. “And you,” he commanded, “stay out of this problem!”
“This ceremony will end here!” Alpha Raven declared. His words are final and irrevocable.
A wave of subdued murmurs rippled through the remaining guests as they began to disperse, the celebratory atmosphere replaced by a heavy pall of awkwardness and unspoken questions.
The clifftop, moments before vibrant with anticipation, now felt desolate and empty.
Theo, Jessica, and young Tracey moved away, their departure a silent acknowledgment of the shattered dreams.
Elder Remus watched them go, his heart heavy with a mixture of anger and sorrow. He couldn’t bear to witness Stella’s silent grief, her tears unshed but evident in the tremor of her shoulders and the desolate slump of her posture. He felt a crushing weight of responsibility, the knowledge that his actions had contributed to this devastating outcome.
Daisha, sensing her father’s distress, appeared at his side, her hand resting gently on his arm. “Dad,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern.
Elder Remus turned to her, his face etched with remorse. “What have I done?” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. The words were a lament, a confession of his failure to protect Stella from the pain that had been inflicted upon her.
Daisha, her eyes filled with empathy, caressed her father’s shoulder. “You don’t know everything about them, Dad,” she said, her voice a soft counterpoint to his self-recrimination. She understood the weight of his responsibility, but she also knew the complexities of the situation, the hidden truths that remained obscured.
Elder Remus shook his head, his gaze fixed on Stella’s retreating figure. “But the trauma that I’ve given to your sister…” he murmured, his voice a heartbroken lament.
Stella, overwhelmed by the events that had transpired, fled the scene. She ran blindly, her heart pounding in her chest, seeking refuge from the pain that threatened to consume her. She found herself at a secluded pond nestled deep within the woods, the only illumination provided by the ethereal glow of the full moon.
The stillness of the night offered a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her.
Meanwhile, back at the family home, a different kind of quiet reigned.
Bryce, unaware of the drama that had unfolded, looked up at his Aunt Flora, his innocent question cutting through the strained silence. “Where’s Mommy?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.
Flora, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, forced a smile. “She’s just resting, sweetheart,” she replied, her voice betraying a tremor of anxiety. She knew she couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet.
Tyros approached Bryce, offering him a comforting hand. “You should take a rest now, Bryce,” he said gently, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of the storm.
Daisha arrived at Stella’s house, the early morning light painting long shadows across the living room.
Flora sat slumped on the sofa, a crumpled tissue clutched in her hand, her face pale and drawn.
“She’s still out there?” Daisha asked, her voice hushed with concern. She could see the raw pain etched on Flora’s face, a mirror of her own feelings.
Flora nodded, a fresh wave of tears welling in her eyes. “I am so hurt for her,” she whispered, her voice choking with emotion. She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, the gesture clumsy and heartbroken.
Daisha sat beside her, offering a silent hand of comfort. “Who wouldn’t feel that way?” she replied, her own voice thick with empathy.
The shared sorrow created a bond between them, a silent understanding of the depth of Stella’s pain. They sat together for a long moment, the only sound the soft sniffles and the quiet sobs that escaped their lips.
Flora shook her head, her voice laced with disbelief. “First, it was Brandon,” she murmured, “and now… it’s Theo. How could this happen?”
Daisha offered a wry smile, a flicker of dark humor in the midst of their despair. “What’s funny is,” she said, “Brandon discovered it all while getting the flowers Stella wanted for her bouquet!”
Flora’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fascination.
Daisha nodded, a silent confirmation of the unexpected twist of fate.
The hours passed slowly. It was almost four in the morning when a faint sound reached their ears-the gentle click of the front door.
Daisha and Flora, exhausted but vigilant, had fallen asleep on the sofa, their bodies huddled together for warmth and comfort.
Stella entered the house, her movements slow and deliberate. She saw them sleeping, their faces pale and etched with worry. Without a word, she walked quietly to her room.
Inside, Bryce slept soundly, his small body nestled against Tyros.
Stella’s heart ached at the sight of her son’s peaceful slumber, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her. She gathered some clothes and quietly slipped into the bathroom, the need for cleansing both physical and emotional overwhelming her.
The sound of running water eventually drew Daisha to the kitchen. She emerged, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and saw Stella drying her hair with a towel. “Good to see you here,” She said, her voice soft and reassuring.
Stella, her face still pale but her movements more composed, turned to her sister. “Where’s Darrel?” she asked, her voice flat and emotionless.
“He’s at our house,” Daisha replied.
Stella nodded, her expression unchanged.
Daisha, sensing her sister’s need for space, approached cautiously. “Did you take a rest?” she asked gently.
Stella shook her head, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Nope. I can’t rest right now.”
Daisha offered a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about Bryce,” she said. “I’ll take care of him while I’m here.”
Stella offered a brief, almost curt, “Thank you.” The gratitude was evident, but the emotional exhaustion was still palpable.
Flora awoke with a start to the sound of Stella’s voice, a low murmur that drifted from the kitchen. The sound, though quiet, sliced through the lingering stillness of the night, jolting her from a restless sleep. She sprang up from the sofa, her heart pounding in her chest, a mixture of anxiety and relief washing over her. As she hurried towards the kitchen, she collided with Stella, their bodies meeting in a silent embrace.
“Oh my gosh!” Flora exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. She held Stella tightly, embracing a silent expression of shared grief and understanding. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice choking with tears.
Daisha sensed the need for privacy. “I’ll stay in the living room,” she announced softly, giving them space to process their emotions. She withdrew quietly, leaving the two friends alone in the kitchen.
Stella, her voice barely a whisper, looked up at Flora, her eyes red and swollen. “Why are you crying like hell?” she asked, her tone a mixture of concern and self-deprecating humor.
Flora’s voice trembled as she posed the question that had been haunting her since the previous night. “Should I kill him?” she asked, her words laced with a mixture of anger and desperation.
Stella’s lips curved into a faint smile, a fragile expression of amusement amidst her pain. “He has a family,” she replied softly, a hint of weariness in her voice. She tried to sound cheerful, to lighten the mood, but the effort felt strained and forced.
~~~
Daisha, mindful of Bryce’s need for comfort and stability, decided to take him to their father’s house.
As they walked, Bryce’s innocent question pierced the quiet. “My Mommy wants to be alone?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain. He looked up at Daisha, his eyes reflecting his confusion and concern.
Daisha knelt beside him, her hand gently stroking his hair. “Yes, sweetheart,” she said softly. “She wants to be alone for now.”
Bryce’s brow furrowed. “What happened to her?” he asked again, his voice laced with a child’s intuitive understanding of unspoken distress.
Daisha smiled sadly, choosing her words carefully. “Just don’t mind your mother for a while, okay?” she said, her voice a soothing balm.
~~~
Left alone with Stella, Flora attempted to offer practical comfort. “Do you want to eat something?” she asked gently, her voice laced with concern.
Stella shook her head, her silence a testament to her emotional exhaustion.
Flora persisted, her concern growing. “You should eat, though!” she urged, but Stella remained unresponsive, her gaze fixed on some distant point.
Flora, understanding the depth of Stella’s heartbreak, patiently waited, offering silent support. She knew that words were inadequate, that actions spoke louder than any attempt at consolation. “I can cook anything,” she offered, her voice soft and reassuring.
Stella finally turned to Flora, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and weariness. “I’m fine, Flora,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. “You can go home.”
Flora shook her head, her determination unwavering. “No,” she replied firmly. “I’ll stay with you.”
Stella didn’t respond, but the slight softening of her expression spoke volumes.
Darkness had fallen, cloaking the house in a comforting silence.
Stella, alone in her room, sat on the floor, the remnants of her tears staining the worn carpet. She was lost in her own thoughts, wiping away stray tears with the back of her hand, when a soft knock echoed at her door. “Who is it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her body tense with a mixture of apprehension and weariness. She rose slowly, her movements stiff and deliberate, and made her way to the door.
As she opened it, her father stood on the threshold, his face etched with a mixture of concern and regret. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sharp, the question laced with a mixture of surprise and resentment.
Elder Remus, his usually imposing figure appearing smaller, more vulnerable, met her gaze. “I want to apologize, Stella,” he said, his voice low and humble.
Stella, her emotions a tangled mess of hurt and anger, simply stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, to find the strength to confront him. “Apologizing for what?” she asked, her voice still strained but gaining a hint of steel.
Elder Remus hesitated, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. “I pushed you… I pushed you towards them,” he began, his voice filled with remorse.
Stella cut him off, her voice rising with a mixture of anger and frustration. “Stop,” she said firmly. “If you’re just going to tell me about my supposed marriage, then don’t bother.” Her eyes flashed, her patience wearing thin.
Elder Remus, understanding the depth of her hurt, looked at her seriously, his expression one of genuine remorse. “I’m really sorry for pushing you to get married to the wrong man,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.
Stella’s composure crumbled. Tears streamed down her face, a torrent of pent-up emotion finally unleashed. “Really?” she asked, her voice laced with bitterness. “You’re sorry for what you’ve done to me?”
The dam had broken.
Stella poured out her heart, her words a torrent of pain and accusation. “You pushed me to someone who didn’t like me, who chose my sister over me,” she cried, her voice rising with each syllable. “And then you pushed me again, to someone who showed me that he liked me… but only to use me!”
Elder Remus listened patiently, his face etched with sorrow. He accepted the full force of her rage, understanding the depth of her betrayal.
Stella continued, her voice raw with emotion. “I gave them my trust, my effort,” she sobbed. “But in the end, they broke me. For what? For this freaking family! You used me, just like a thing, to preserve the legacy of our family!” She wiped her tears, her body shaking with the force of her emotions.
Elder Remus reached out, his hand hovering near her, but he hesitated, unsure of how to comfort her. “I know I’ll hear that from you,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “But I want you to know that it hurts me whenever I see you crying. You are still my child.”
A faint smirk played on Stella’s lips, a flicker of defiance amidst her sorrow. Her voice, raw with pain and anger, cut through the strained silence. “Nah! Don’t spill bullsh*t things here, Dad!” she spat, her words laced with bitterness. “You didn’t care if it was me. You just care about Daisha! How about me, Dad?” Her voice cracked, the carefully constructed composure crumbling under the weight of years of unspoken resentment. Tears streamed down her face, a torrent of pent-up emotion finally unleashed.
Elder Remus, his face etched with remorse, reached out a hand towards her, his intention clear-to comfort, to console.
But Stella recoiled, her body stiffening, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Stop!” she cried, her voice rising to a desperate plea. “I am dying in pain right now, Dad!”
The words were a raw confession, a desperate cry for understanding, for acknowledgment of her suffering. She couldn’t stop the tears, the sobs wracking her body, a physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil.
The sound of Stella’s distress drew Flora into the room. She stood silently for a moment, observing the scene, her heart aching for her friend. Then, stepping forward, she gently placed a hand on Elder Remus’s arm.
“Let’s give her some time to think, Elder Remus,” Flora said softly, her voice a calming counterpoint to the storm raging around them. Her tone was firm but gentle, a subtle suggestion rather than a command. She understood the need for space, for Stella to process her emotions without the added pressure of her father’s presence.
Elder Remus, recognizing the wisdom in Flora’s words, nodded slowly. He looked at Stella one last time, his gaze filled with a mixture of sorrow and regret. “Just call me if anything happens here,” he said, his voice low and strained. He turned and left, leaving the two friends alone with Stella’s raw pain.
Flora nodded, her gaze fixed on Stella, a silent promise of unwavering support.