The frantic, hushed whispers of wedding chaos were a familiar backdrop, a symphony of familial demands and high-society anxieties. I stood before the full-length mirror, a silk cream dress clinging to curves I usually tried to hide, a testament to Olivia’s exquisite, if stifling, taste.

Then, the voices sharpened, pierced by a sudden, chilling dread. Not another argument over flowers. This was different.

The door to my suite burst open, an unannounced invasion of worried faces: my parents, Zach’s parents, my aunt and uncle, and Zach himself. Their expressions were a canvas of shock and despair, my father's usually optimistic face etched with a defeat I’d never seen.

"What is it?" I heard myself ask, my voice a tremor in the sudden silence.

No one spoke, until Aunt Ophelia, her face a mask of sorrow, held up a piece of paper. My sister’s perfect handwriting stared back at me, a cruel declaration of abandonment, a shattered promise. And then, my eyes found Zach, broken and dejected, and the horrifying truth settled in.