Broken At The Altar, Reborn Stronger

my fiancé announced at the altar,

r meant for him. When I sliced my wrist

ela. It's disgusting. J

unologist. When his son collapsed from an

e, and my ex-fiancé kicked me in the ribs

g anyway, collapsing in pain a

ho!" my ex demand

handcuff him, just as a cold, pow

econds to step a

pte

Carpent

roud as I stood at the altar, watching the man I loved walk away. He w

came a silent echo chamber, amplifying the sound of my own shattered heart. My f

arm around her, pulling her close, a gesture of comfort he should have been offering me. He looked a

hrough the stunned silence. "I can't marry you

yron stroked her hair. He looked back at me, his gaze

d? Here? Now? My mind raced, trying to grasp th

now... she's pregnant." He spoke it like a solemn pro

child. A child conceived out of a n

my gaze, from the judgment of the crowd. "I have a moral duty to marry C

ody of the vows we were meant to exchange. He was talki

ngela, just... wait a year for me. I'll get divorced. Then we can be together." He said it

ard, her face etched with horror. "Byron, w

Christin towards the side door. The guests watched, frozen. My entire l

For a man who would abandon me at the altar, claiming

rd it with your life." He had meant real love, not this toxic mockery. He had died a year ago, leaving

our union, felt like a funeral dirge. My hand trembled, reaching for

rate need for him, for his love, for the love I thought we shared, consumed me. I ne

pener I' d used to open our wedding invitations. It lay forgotten on the small table beside the guestb

stark contrast to the burning agony in my chest. A si

ck. His eyes widened when he saw the letter op

ou doing?" His voic

derstand. "Byron," I choked out, a raw sob

dened. "Stop acting crazy, Angela.

at my already broken spirit. The blade pressed harde

n. Just annoyance. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not falling for this."

" he hissed, his voice low but cutting. "You're ble

d, pulling Christin with him, leaving me bleeding and b

ead spun. The cold, analytical part of my brain, the part that would later define my life, re

pulative. Disgusting. Stop acting crazy. Each word echoed, not softening t

e my suffering and return, shattered into a million pieces. It wasn't just my h

ey didn't just leave me; they took everything. My future, my dignity, even the wedding gifts that

y of this. The man I had loved so blindly, so completely, was a hollow shell, filled with

ly, pulled the blade away. The wound stung, burning, but it was nothing compared to the wound in my soul. I wrapped a piece

e scorned. My future, whatever it was, would not include him. I needed to find

e knew my past. Somewhere I could rebuild, unburdened by his toxic shadow. The bloo

e pain of betrayal. It was the first s

empty aisle, a ghost of a vengeful smile touchi