The Newspaper Headline
I sat at the breakfast table, my hands shaking as I unfolded the morning newspaper. And there it was, printed in bold letters on the front page:
DAMIEN AND BIANCA: A WEDDING FOR THE AGES!
A glossy photo accompanied the headline. They were in a perfect embrace, like a scene from a fairy tale. Bianca's hand rested on Damien's chest, her diamond ring shining like it was mocking me. And his eyes—eyes that once looked at me with love—were now locked on her, as if she was his whole world.
My heart stopped. My stomach twisted. A hot wave of anger rushed through me, making my vision blur until all I could see was them.
"Celeste?" My best friend, Mariah, spoke carefully, her spoon frozen above her oatmeal. "Are you okay?"
Okay?
A bitter laugh bubbled up inside me. No, I was not okay.
I crushed the newspaper in my hand, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My fingers found the lighter on the table. With a flick, flames came to life, eating away at the edges of the paper. Their perfect smiles burned, blackening into ash.
Mariah swore under her breath. "Celeste, damn. You're really doing this, huh?"
I met her gaze, my voice steady. "They took everything from me. Now, it's my turn."
---
The city was celebrating their wedding, but I moved through the streets unnoticed, like a ghost. The world cheered for them while I was left behind, drowning in the wreckage of their betrayal.
Damien—the man who once swore I was his forever.
Bianca—the friend who stabbed me in the back.
The pain wasn't just a wound. It was fuel. It gave me a purpose.
A plan formed in my mind, slow and calculated, like a storm gathering in the distance. I wouldn't act recklessly. No, I would be careful. I would be unstoppable.
All I needed was the perfect moment.
---
It came sooner than I expected.
Their rehearsal dinner was at L'Amour, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. I had been there before—with Damien. I knew its hidden corners, its secret exits.
So I went.
Dressed in black, I blended into the shadows, slipping past the staff unnoticed. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as I stood at the edge of the room, watching.
Then I saw them.
Bianca, glowing in a silk dress, smiling like she owned the world. Damien, leaning into her, whispering something that made her laugh as her fingers brushed his wrist.
My jaw tightened. My nails dug into my palm. That used to be me.
And then—
"Celeste?"
A familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. I turned sharply. No. Not now.
It was Eliot—Damien's best man. The only person who never believed their "perfect love story."
His eyes widened in shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Just enjoying the show," I said with a smirk.
"Celeste—" He sighed, stepping closer. "You shouldn't be here."
"Why?" I tilted my head. "Afraid I'll ruin their special night?"
His eyes flickered toward Damien and Bianca. Then he looked back at me, his voice softer, almost worried. "I know this isn't over for you. But whatever you're thinking of doing—don't."
I let out a low, dangerous laugh. "Oh, Eliot. I'm not planning anything. I'm just waiting."
His jaw tightened. "Waiting for what?"
I glanced back at Damien and Bianca, my voice calm but firm.
"For the right moment."
And with that, I melted into the crowd, leaving Eliot standing there, watching me like a man who saw a storm coming but couldn't stop it.
Because it was coming.
And I was the storm.
---
The night of their wedding arrived.
The city buzzed with excitement. Guests filled the grand cathedral, the air thick with roses and whispered blessings.
But I was already inside.
The organ played, and I watched from the balcony as Bianca walked down the aisle. Damien stood at the altar, looking at her with the same devotion he once gave me.
It should have been me.
My fingers curled around the railing, my heart pounding. I could stop this. I could stand up, speak, expose the truth. I could destroy their perfect illusion with just a few words.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
Instead, I turned and slipped into the shadows once more.
Let them think they won.
Because when they least expected it, I would be there. Watching. Waiting.
And when I struck, they wouldn't even see it coming.
This wasn't over.