Chapter 2 - SHADOWS IN THE HALLWAY
The reception was a blur of forced smiles, hollow conversations, and hyper-vigilance. Every time the heavy wooden barn doors of the venue swung open, my pulse spiked, expecting the cream designer suit and the pearl earrings to step back into my line of sight. Josie stumbled through her maid-of-honor speech, her voice cracking as she confessed, “I don’t deserve my sister... she protected me before I even understood I needed protection.” The guests thought it was sweet sibling sentiment. I knew it was a desperate confession of guilt.
That night, instead of driving to the airport for our honeymoon, Wells and I checked into a secure downtown hotel suite. He locked the heavy door, threw the deadbolt, checked the adjoining maintenance entrance twice, and placed a sturdy wooden chair beneath the door handle without needing to ask. He understood my routines because he understood the architecture of my fear.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, staring blindly at the white hotel sheets.
Wells pulled me tightly against his chest, his hand smoothing my hair. “You didn't ruin anything, Rowan.”
“She managed to get inside my head anyway.”
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“But she didn't stop you from becoming my wife.”
For five minutes, I allowed myself to tremble, releasing the trapped adrenaline of the day. Then I washed my face, carefully unzipped my wedding dress, and hung it over the back of the chair. My mother had stolen decades of my peace; she would not steal my honeymoon night, even if it had to be spent behind deadbolts. Yet, at 6:12 the next morning, my phone lit up with a barrage of frantic messages from Josie that shattered whatever fragile calm we had managed to construct.
