Alexander, what have you done to me? What am l even doing here asking myself about what he is thinking. This shouldn't have happened even in the first place. They were actually even Beth rowed since the day they were born and now am only just an inconvenience because mean nothing to him. And l have been only used as a tool. And for a moment i thought there was something between use, while three was none.
It didn't crash into me all at once. There was no dramatic shattering, no sudden collapse that I could clearly point to and say—there, that's when everything broke. Instead, it seeped in quietly, like something cold slipping through the smallest cracks in my chest, spreading before I even realized what it was. I stood there, completely still, my gaze locked onto them as if I had lost the ability to look away, even though something deep inside me was already beginning to twist in protest. Used. The word formed so faintly in my mind that I almost missed it, almost ignored it, but once it settled, it refused to leave. Used. My fingers curled slightly at my sides, the delicate fabric of my dress shifting beneath my grip as my thoughts began to unravel, pulling me back through every moment I had shared with him—the quiet glances, the lingering touches, the way his voice softened when he spoke to me, the way he had held my hand in the car like it meant something real. Had it meant anything at all? Or had I been nothing more than something temporary—something convenient, something easy to hold onto until something better, something more fitting, came along? My throat tightened painfully at the thought, my chest constricting as I watched them, my eyes tracing details I hadn't allowed myself to notice before. Lila stood beside him with a kind of ease that didn't need to be explained. She belonged there. In that space, in that world, beside him. And Alexander… he wasn't pulling away. He wasn't distant. He wasn't conflicted, not in any way that anyone else could see. He was present, standing there with her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and that realization hurt more than anything else, because it made this—whatever this was—feel real. Solid. And it made everything I had believed feel fragile, almost foolish in comparison. I had let my guard down for him, and now I could feel the consequences of that choice pressing in on me from every direction, suffocating, unavoidable. I kept watching, longer than I should have, as if I was waiting for something—anything—to change, for him to step away, to look uncomfortable, to search the room for me the way I had been searching for him. But nothing changed. Nothing shifted. And that silence, that stillness, said more than any words could have.
The sharp, delicate sound of glass being tapped cut through everything like a blade. It echoed clearly through the hall, slicing through laughter and conversation, pulling every wandering attention back into a single point. The noise faded almost instantly, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence that settled over the room like a veil. I felt it too, that shift, dragging me out of the storm building inside my chest and forcing my attention forward. Ezekiel stood above the crowd with effortless authority, a glass in his hand, his posture calm, composed, completely in control. The light from the chandeliers framed him perfectly, casting a golden glow that made him seem almost untouchable, like a figure placed deliberately at the center of everything. "Tonight," he began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying across the room with ease, "is a very special night." His words settled into the silence with weight, deliberate and calculated, and I swallowed hard, my focus caught between him and the two figures who still stood too close together in my peripheral vision. "I am grateful that all of you are here," he continued, "not only as allies, but as family." A murmur of agreement moved through the crowd, soft but present, and the word family lingered uncomfortably in my mind, twisting in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. He spoke with quiet pride, with the kind of confidence that came from knowing he held control over every person in that room, every moment of that night. "To see the strength of the bonds we have built over the years… to stand here surrounded by those we trust…" Trust. My jaw tightened slightly, the word feeling heavier than it should have. My thoughts kept slipping, drifting back to the image I couldn't shake—Alexander standing beside Lila, the ease between them, the way it all looked so effortless, so right in a way that made everything else feel misplaced. "I am also proud," Ezekiel continued, his tone shifting slightly, something more personal threading through his words now, "as a father, to have raised two sons who have grown into men worthy of leading and strengthening this family." My breath caught without warning, my heart beginning to beat faster as the pieces started to fall into place whether I wanted them to or not. Two sons. One already leading. The other… The air felt thinner suddenly, harder to breathe. "Tonight," he said, a faint smile touching his lips, "we celebrate not only our unity… but a union."
The word landed heavily, echoing through my mind just as applause erupted around me, loud and immediate, filling the hall with energy that felt almost overwhelming. It surrounded me, pressed against me, but I barely heard it. My focus had narrowed too much, locked onto what I knew was coming next. "And so," Ezekiel continued over the sound, "I invite them forward." There was a subtle shift in the room, attention moving like a wave, lights adjusting as if guided by an invisible hand. And then the spotlight moved, slow and deliberate, sweeping across the crowd before settling exactly where I didn't want it to—on them. On Alexander. On Lila. The light caught them perfectly, illuminating every detail, every expression, every movement in a way that made it impossible to look away. They stepped forward together, and something inside me dropped, quiet but undeniable, like a piece of me had just fallen out of place without warning.