Project Oxygen

The air in the cathedral was thick with the cloying scent of roses and the saccharine sweetness of forced joy. Rhiannon Ford, perched awkwardly in her seat, fought a rising tide of nausea. It wasn't the ceremony itself, not truly. Her sister, Stephanie, giggled as Aaron Harvey pulled her into a kiss, and Rhiannon tried to focus on the flickering candlelight.

Then it happened. A rose petal, a rogue crimson confetti, drifted down and, with a horrifying lurch, she accidentally swallowed it. A cough, sharp and embarrassing, ripped through the solemn quiet. Across the aisle, her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Ford, shot her identical warning glances, their smiles plastic.

She gulped, forcing the burning tears back. Not for the makeup, but because she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. Not now, not ever. They had disowned her, for Christ’s sake, and every interaction was a reminder that she was only there because Stephanie had insisted. This place, this family, was a cage.

Sighing softly, Rhiannon watched Stephanie and Aaron glide down the aisle, a perfect picture of marital bliss. She felt utterly, irrevocably out of place. Her mother’s fingers, sharp and cold, curled around her wrist. “Where are you going?” Madeleine Ford demanded, her voice a low hiss.

Rhiannon jerked free. “Outside. To smoke. Unless you’d prefer I do it in here?” Her mother’s nostrils flared, livid. Just then, Jude Sargent, a cigarette dangling from his lips, appeared like a ghost in the doorway, offering a light. He looked devastatingly good, and for a fleeting moment, Rhiannon felt a familiar flicker of ease. “Thought you might need some light on such a grim day,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling under the stormy skies.

She took a drag, the smoke bitter and comforting. “My parents would sue me if I choked to death.”