I had known Malcolm since we were kids, racing barefoot through his grandmother’s orchard, our fingers sticky from swiping plums and our knees scraped from climbing over fences. We grew up, went off to university, built our careers, and somehow found our way back into each other’s lives time and time again. Our friendship was like that—effortless and steady, untouched by the passage of time or miles between us.
When Malcolm shared the news of his upcoming marriage, I was absolutely thrilled. He used to say he’d never settle down, but now he’s finally found “the one.” Aurelia was her name, and in his eyes, she embodied warmth, intelligence, and a captivating radiance. I had only crossed paths with her twice before the wedding day—a quick greeting at a bustling dinner party and a short conversation following a gallery opening. She appeared to be lovely, though somewhat reserved. She never lingered, always had another place to go. But Malcolm was captivated, so I was all in.
On the wedding morning, the church was bathed in soft candlelight, filled with quiet conversations. White orchids decorated the pews, while a string quartet played a gentle melody. Malcolm stood at the altar, surprisingly composed. Tristan, his closest friend from college, stood beside him. They had been inseparable since their freshman year. I settled into my seat in the front row, sensing the delightful buzz of a celebration about to unfold.
A soft buzz rippled among the guests as the string quartet changed their tune, signaling the bride’s arrival. Everyone turned around. Aurelia stood at the far end of the aisle, wearing a gown that glimmered like silk under the moonlight. Her veil fell gently over her face, and her steps were deliberate, graceful at first sight. Yet, as I observed her more intently, there was something that felt… amiss.
She moved with a stiffness, a carefulness that felt almost unnatural. She held her shoulders tight, and her feet were just barely visible under the hem. Sometimes it seemed more like she was gliding than walking, as if her shoes barely made contact with the ground.
I leaned in closer to Malcolm’s cousin, Colette, who was sitting right next to me. “Have you noticed anything unusual?” I leaned in and whispered, giving a subtle nod in the direction of the bride.
Colette looked over and then shook her head. “You seem a bit nervous, Adeline,” she said gently. “It’s simply those pre-wedding nerves.” Let’s keep it simple.
I made an effort to move on. Yet, as Aurelia approached, my unease intensified. Her posture seemed overly stiff, and the way her gown draped around her ankles appeared awkward, as if something underneath was hindering her movement.
A gentle laugh floated up from the back pews. I overheard someone say, “…like she’s floating.” Drifting. That was all there was to it. It was as if she floated instead of walked.
My heart fluttered strangely in my chest. This was more than just nerves. There was definitely something off. Malcolm raised his eyes, a broad and hopeful smile spreading across his face. He appeared oblivious. The officiant was all set and waiting. Tristan wore a steady grin, but the moment our eyes locked, he blinked and turned his gaze elsewhere. Strange.
As Aurelia made her way to the middle of the aisle, I found myself unable to bear it any longer. Every instinct shouted that something was off. I could have just sat there quietly, but I really knew Malcolm too well for that. If I were overlooking something important—if there was a danger or a deception—he would expect me to take action. I got up, brushing off Colette’s surprised gasp.
As I made my way down the aisle, I could hear the guests whispering in bewilderment. One step at a time, I made my way toward the bride. Aurelia paused, her head tilting slightly as if taken aback by my presence. My palms were slick with sweat. What was I up to? I barely knew this woman. Yet, I continued, bending down a bit, and carefully raised the hem of her gown.
A collective gasp echoed softly throughout the church. For a brief moment, my brain struggled to comprehend what my eyes were witnessing beneath the fabric: sleek black men’s shoes, rather than the delicate bridal heels I had expected. And above them, the legs of trousers. I raised the dress slightly, and my breath hitched—this was not the shape of a woman. Narrow hips, the subtle glimpse of a crisp shirt cuff, and strong shoulders slightly bent to fit into the gown.
I let the dress hem fall and stumbled back, my heart racing. The bride—no, the imposter—remained motionless for a moment before raising one gloved hand to gently lift the veil. Below was the face of a stranger, a man with short brown hair and a sly, mocking grin. Gasps filled the air from every direction. I could hear Colette gasp in surprise, and the sound of guests shifting in their seats to catch a glimpse of what was happening.
Malcolm’s voice shattered the stillness. “What… what’s happening?” He seemed adrift, like a child trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn’t escape.
Tristan took a step forward. I thought he would step in and reveal who the intruder was. To my surprise, Tristan smiled—chilling and victorious. The man in the wedding dress gave a nod to Tristan, and I felt a twist in my stomach. So, they were in on it together?
Malcolm tripped down the altar steps, a look of bewilderment crossing his striking face. “Where is Aurelia?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What did you do with her?”
The imposter bride smirked, their voice unexpectedly gentle for someone pulling off such a public betrayal. “She’s okay.” She left a few days ago. He yanked off the wig and veil, flinging them aside without a second thought. “Before she left, she wanted us to make sure you grasped the true meaning of betrayal.”
Deceit? My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Aurelia had only known Malcolm for a short time—how could betrayal happen so quickly? I took a quick look at Tristan. I never fully trusted him, but Malcolm was absolutely taken with him. Tristan stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest. “Aurelia found out about your little secret, Malcolm,” he said, his voice calm yet filled with accusation. “The secret you believed would remain hidden forever.”
Malcolm’s eyes flicked from side to side, a wave of panic swelling within him. “What secret?” he gasped.
The man in the dress let out a scoff. “The affair, Malcolm.” Alongside your colleague, Sabine. Aurelia discovered the truth. She discovered the messages and the hotel room receipts. She was aware of it all.
Aurelia had found out about Malcolm’s cheating. My knees shook as everything started to come together. Aurelia had orchestrated an intricate scheme, positioning an accomplice in her gown to bring public humiliation to Malcolm. She aimed to make him experience shock and shame in front of all the people who mattered to him.
The crowd whispered among themselves, the air thick with a mix of disbelief and anger. Some guests stood up to leave, unwilling to watch any more of this scene. People leaned in, captivated by the eerie scene.
Malcolm shook his head vigorously, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t true. “No, no, that’s not how it is—” Yet, his voice wavered. He found himself at a loss for words. The truth had finally come to light. I recalled a rumor I had brushed off months back, something about Malcolm reconnecting with an old flame over late dinners. Did I really ignore what was happening?
Tristan’s eyes narrowed in distaste. “Malcolm, she wanted you to feel pain.” I wanted you to stand at the altar, filled with hope for love and devotion, only to have it ripped away in front of everyone, just like you shattered her trust.
Malcolm’s face twisted in pain. He gazed at me, a sense of desperation evident in his eyes. “Adeline, please…” he whispered, as if I held the power to fix this. But how am I supposed to do that? I felt just as shocked and betrayed as he did when I discovered his deceit and witnessed Aurelia’s wrath up close.
The impersonator slowly shook his head. “You got what you deserved,” he murmured softly. Without saying anything more, he walked down the aisle, moving the guests aside like reeds swaying by a riverbank. Tristan walked behind, calm and expressionless.
Everything was in disarray. Voices rose in a chorus of questions, each demanding answers. Malcolm stood frozen in place, shaking, with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. The officiant stood there, looking a bit lost, gripping his prayer book tightly as if it held the power to bring everything back to normal.
I reached out and placed my hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. He recoiled at my touch, and it hit me that I was unable to provide any solace. Not at the moment. He had torn apart the trust of a woman who cared for him deeply, enough to say ‘I do.’ And she, for her part, had opted for this harsh, public punishment.
After the intruders left, Malcolm lowered his head, his shoulders trembling. I stood there, helpless, as my oldest friend faced the remnants of his wedding day, fully aware that everything had changed forever.
Outside, I pictured Aurelia in a distant place, liberated from the chains of falsehood. She had left Malcolm with a powerful lesson etched into the minds of all who saw that day: broken trust doesn’t simply fade away—it can destroy lives with one harsh turn.
I let out a sigh, took a step back, and joined the other guests as we moved into the sunlight, leaving Malcolm to confront his regrets by himself.
