The sun beat down on my parasol, a familiar warmth that should have calmed my flutter of excitement. Today, my sister Meredith was to marry Lord Darius Kingsley, a man she spoke of with fervent devotion. My curiosity was piqued, and I couldn't help but wonder about the man who inspired such passion.

A carriage pulled up, and a tall, broad-shouldered man emerged, his dark hair and piercing blue eyes scanning the street before striding confidently towards the church. Darius. My cheeks flushed, and I couldn't help but stare. Meredith was truly lucky.

Inside the grand church, with its vaulted ceilings and stained glass, a sense of awe washed over me. Yet, my attention was drawn to Darius, who seemed visibly agitated. What could cause such a reaction on his wedding day? Was he having second thoughts?

As the wedding music began, I tried to push aside my concerns. But deep down, a feeling of unease settled in my gut. Then, as Meredith approached the altar, Darius's face contorted, not with joy, but with anger. My heart sank.

Something was terribly wrong. And then, in a sudden, shocking turn, Meredith turned and fled from the church, leaving everyone stunned. Frozen in disbelief, I watched her run, a panicked state I couldn't comprehend. Why would she run? What could have gone so wrong on what was meant to be the happiest day of her life?