11. Victoria
— ? —
Victoria
Alejandra walked down the aisle in her mother’s veil.
The ceremony was everything a wedding should be - vows exchanged with tears in their eyes, family members dabbing at their cheeks, music swelling under strung lights as the sun set over the ocean.
The bride and groom looked at each other like they were the only two people in the world, and I sat beside Timothy in the family section and tried not to think about our own wedding.
Courthouse steps. Two strangers for witnesses. Too impatient to wait.
We didn’t even give our families the chance to watch.
Maybe that was the first mistake.
Timothy’s knee pressed against mine in the crowded row of chairs.
I didn’t move away.
***
The speeches began after dinner.
The father of the bride stood first, tears already streaming. Then the maid of honor, then the best man, each one more emotional than the last.
Then Timothy stood.
Nobody had asked him to.
My stomach dropped through the floor.
He took the microphone from the best man, and the room fell silent. Every member of my family. All of them watching my husband walk to the front of the reception.
“I wasn’t planning to say anything tonight,” he began.
His voice was steady, but I could see his hands shaking slightly. This wasn’t polished. Wasn’t rehearsed. He was doing something that terrified him, and he was doing it anyway.
He turned first to the groom.
“Eduardo. Take care of your wife. Notice her. Come home to her. Never make her celebrate an anniversary alone at a set table.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Then he turned.
Looked directly at me.
“I have not been the husband my wife deserves. Not for one year of five.”
The room went completely silent.
“I have had the best woman in this room beside me the entire time, and I treated her like she would always be there. Like I could take her for granted and she’d keep waiting.”
The aunts were crying.
My mother had both hands pressed to her mouth.
“I’m saying this here because she deserves to hear it where everyone can witness. I failed her. I’m sorry. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life earning the right to try again.”
He set down the microphone.
I sat there shaking.
Furious that he’d done this here, at someone else’s wedding. Furious that he’d made my pain into a public spectacle.
Wrecked that he’d finally said it where everyone could hear.
***
I needed a drink.
Several drinks.
The bar was crowded, but I found a spot at the end and ordered tequila. Neat. The kind of order that made bartenders raise their eyebrows but pour without comment.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here, you know that?”
I turned.
One of the groomsmen. Too much tequila in him. Leaning into my space with the confidence of a man who’d never been told no.
“I’m married.”
The words came out before I could stop them. I wasn’t even wearing my real ring - just the cubic zirconia decoy - but the reflex was there anyway. Five years of habit.
“Are you, though?” He moved closer. “Because I heard the husband never comes around. And you’ve been sitting alone all night-”
A hand settled at the small of my back.
Timothy.
His voice was pleasant. And lethal.
“She’s my wife.”
The groomsman’s face went pale.
“Hey, man, I didn’t mean-”
“I know exactly what you meant.” Timothy’s voice didn’t change, but something in his eyes did. Something that made the groomsman take a step back. “And now you’re going to walk away.”
He did.
I turned to face Timothy, my heart pounding.
Rose onto my toes.
Put my mouth at his ear.
“Not your wife for much longer.” My voice was low. Furious. “You know it’s over.”
He turned his head.
His lips nearly grazed my cheek.
Low enough that only I could hear:
“You are today. And I’m going to win you all over again, Victoria. Watch me.”
My knees actually betrayed me.
I had to grip the bar to keep from swaying.
***
The married couples were called to the dance floor.
I couldn’t refuse - not here, not in front of my entire family. Not after that speech.
Timothy’s hand found mine. Led me to the floor.
His arms came around me. My hands found his shoulders.
We moved together like we remembered how, and that was the cruelest part - our bodies never forgot.
Five years of dancing at galas and charity events, of going through the motions while growing further and further apart.
But the muscle memory was there. The way his hand fit against my back.
The way my head knew exactly where to rest against his shoulder.
The music swelled.
His forehead dropped to mine.
We stood there in the middle of the dance floor, barely moving, while the family held its breath.
I could feel them watching. Every aunt, every cousin, every member of my family waiting to see what would happen next.
Waiting for the kiss.
I stepped back.
Walked off the floor mid-song.
In front of everyone.
***
I was halfway to the bathroom when Aunt Rosa appeared.
“Whatever you think you saw at your anniversary party-” The old woman’s eyes were sharp. Knowing. “I was at that party too.”
She walked back toward the reception before I could respond.
I stood frozen in the hallway, her words echoing in my ears.
I was at that party too.
What does she know?