---- Chapter 12 Derek Gomez POV: Time ceased to have meaning. | stayed on the floor of our empty bedroom, surrounded by the ghosts of a life | had single-handedly annihilated. Mark and the others tried to talk to me, their voices muffled and distant, but | couldn't respond. | was trapped in a black hole of my own making, the gravity of my guilt so immense it was crushing the very air from my lungs. "The guests are arriving at the venue," the wedding planner's voice finally pierced through the fog. "Derek, what do we tell them?" The wedding. | had forgotten. The grand celebration of a love | had murdered. Mark helped me to my feet. "Come on, man. We have to go. Maybe... maybe she'll be there. Maybe this is all some kind of horrible test." A desperate, foolish flicker of hope ignited within me. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was waiting for me at the altar, ready to confront me, to scream at me, to make me pay. Anything would be better than this suffocating silence. Any punishment would be a relief compared to the agony of her absence. ---- The drive to the venue was a blur. | walked into the grand ballroom, decorated with thousands of white roses, Elaina's favorite. Hundreds of faces, our friends, our family, all turned to look at me, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. | was still in my street clothes, my face was tear- streaked, and my bride was nowhere to be seen. My parents rushed over, their faces pale. "Derek, where is Elaina? What is happening?" my mother asked, her voice trembling. "She's not coming," | whispered, the words tasting like poison "It's my fault. It's all my fault." Before they could respond, the lights in the ballroom dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd as the massive screen above the stage, which was supposed to be showing a romantic slideshow of our relationship, flickered to life. But it wasn't our faces on the screen. It was mine. And Cory's. A hidden camera video, raw and unfiltered. Me, laughing as | pulled Cory onto my lap. Me, kissing her, my hands roaming her body. The audio was crystal clear. My voice, saying things to her | had only ever said to Elaina. Her voice, giggling and asking me if | really loved her. "Of course," my on-screen self said with a lazy smile. "More than anything." ---- A collective gasp went through the room. The air crackled with shock and scandalized whispers. My parents stared at the screen, their faces masks of horror and disbelief. | stood frozen in place, paralyzed by a humiliation so profound it felt like a physical assault. This was her revenge. It wasn't just a quiet disappearance. It was a public execution. She was burning my world to the ground, and she was making sure everyone was there to watch the inferno. The video cut to another scene. Me and Cory in a hotel room, the same one | had woken up in this morning. The conversation was even more damning. Cory's voice: "What about your precious Elaina? Don't you feel bad?" My voice: "Elaina is... a responsibility. You're fun. There's a difference." The whispers in the room grew louder, turning into a roar of judgment. | felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, piercing me with their contempt. | wanted the ground to swallow me whole. The video ended. The screen went black. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing. Then, a man | didn't recognize, dressed in a sharp black suit, ---- walked through the crowd and stopped in front of me. He handed me a small, unmarked envelope. "A wedding gift," the man said, his voice cold and professional. "From Ms. Higgins." He turned and walked away before | could say a word. My hands shook as | tore open the envelope. Inside was not a letter, but a single, pristine business card. It was for a gallery. An art gallery in Portland, Oregon. Elaina Higgins, Owner. And on the back, written in her elegant, familiar script, were four words. | am finally free. The card slipped from my numb fingers. She wasn't just gone. She had moved on. She had a new life, a new business, a future that didn't include me in any way. She had already started over. While | was still sifting through the ashes of the world | had destroyed, she had already risen, a phoenix from the flames. | looked around the room, at the shocked faces, at the ruins of my reputation, at the empty space where my bride should have been. And | finally, truly understood. This wasn't a test | could pass. This wasn't a mistake | could ---- fix. This was the end.