Chapter 5

Five days later. Our wedding day.

I sat in the bridal suite in my white gown, my fingers subconsciously wiping the edge of the vanity over and over.

Kathleen, my bridesmaid, stood behind me, adjusting my veil.

Her fingers accidentally brushed against the back of my neck, and I instinctively flinched.

"It’s just me, Chloe," she whispered gently.

I nodded at her, trying to breathe.

The ceremony went by in a blur, and soon, we were at the reception party.

Charlotte took the microphone and walked onto the stage, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Family and friends, we are going to play a very special game tonight!"

"Blindfolded Touch!"

"We are going to blindfold our beautiful bride. Then, we’ll have various men—not just the groom—touch her, and she has to guess which one is Brandon!"

She paused, raising her voice over the microphone.

"Think of it as a special exposure therapy game!"

"Chloe, you've been wanting to cure your OCD forever, right? Today is the day!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

I froze on the spot, the blood draining from my face.

Blindfolded. Touched by random men.

I whipped my head toward Brandon, my eyes begging him for help, filled with absolute terror.

He looked at the laughing guests, then back at me. He walked over and picked up the black silk ribbon.

"Just play along," he whispered, his voice low. "It’s just a game. Don't worry, I'm right here."

My vision plunged into total darkness. The sounds around me became distorted and muffled.

A rough, calloused hand grabbed my left arm.

My entire body locked up. My stomach did a violent flip.

Then, another hand stroked down my spine, slow and heavy.

I began to hyperventilate, my chest heaving.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "Who is it? If you guess wrong, you have to take a shot!"

A third hand reached from behind, grabbing the back of my neck.

In that fraction of a second, the suffocating trauma of when I was thirteen rushed back, drowning me.

"No! Stay away!"

I shrieked, ripping the blindfold off. I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball and wrapping my arms tightly around my head.

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, and then an even louder wave of laughter exploded.

"Oh my god, she is so dramatic!"

"It was just a touch, it’s not like it killed her!"

Charlotte was holding her phone up, recording me, laughing so hard she was shaking.

At the VIP table, my mother was laughing too, leaning over to talk to our relatives.

"I told you she’s too delicate. How is she going to live with a husband if she won't even let men touch her?"

Charlotte crouched down next to me, whispering in my ear.

"Chloe, I know you're scared. But you can't expect Brandon to walk on eggshells around you forever."

"He’s too good for you. I'm doing this for your own sake, okay?"

The moment she finished speaking, Brandon walked over.

He didn't try to help me up. He just stood over me, his forehead creased in irritation.

"Chloe. I approved this game."

He looked down at me, his eyes full of disappointment.

"I was one of the people who touched you. We’ve been together for five years. Are you telling me you can't even recognize your own fiancé’s touch?"

I slowly let go of my head and stood up.

My hands were still trembling, but my eyes were dry. I wasn't crying.

I looked at Charlotte. I looked at Brandon. I looked at my mother.

I reached up, unpinned my veil, and tossed it onto the table next to me.

I turned to walk away.

Brandon rushed forward, grabbing my wrist.

"Chloe, stop making a scene."

His voice was a harsh, impatient whisper.

"I know you're mad. We can talk about this when we get home. Don't make us a laughingstock in front of everyone."

I looked at his hand clamping my wrist. I didn't say a word. I just yanked my arm back with a cold, terrifying strength.

He blinked, startled by my defiance, and instinctively let go.

He watched me walk toward the exit, but he didn't pursue me.

In his mind, I just needed some space to cool off. He believed I would crawl back on my own.

In the parking lot, Kathleen’s car was already waiting, engine idling.

"You finally did it," she said as I opened the door. "You should have done this five years ago."

I got into the back seat, changed into my regular clothes, and tossed the white wedding dress out onto the pavement.

Before the car pulled away, I took one last look at the glittering lights of the hotel.

"Let’s go."

Ten minutes later, inside the reception hall.

It was time for the wedding toasts. Brandon went to the bridal suite to find me, his face wearing a smug expression of “let’s see how you apologize for this.”

The room was completely empty.