Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Elena’s POV:
I stood frozen for a second, staring at my mother across the room.
She was smiling.
Not the weak, strained smile she’d worn the last few days out of politeness or maternal obligation, but a real one. Gentle and glowing, framed by the soft blush-toned shawl draped over her shoulders. The stylist working beside her tucked a final strand of hair behind her ear and stepped back, clearly satisfied with the result. Her eyes met mine from across the space—and for a fleeting moment, I forgot how jittery I felt.
I blinked.
This was actually happening.
It was 11 o'clock in the morning, and the room was a blur of movement and pastel. My hair was half-done, strands pinned in place as the stylist worked through the waves, occasionally murmuring something about volume and symmetry. Alex sat beside me cross-legged on the armchair, scrolling through his phone while occasionally offering his very loud opinions.
"No shimmer. Not on the eyelids. We’re not giving runway glam, we're giving timeless bride." He waved off the assistant makeup artist like a mother hen protecting her chick.
I didn’t have the energy to argue. I was too busy trying to keep my breathing even.
How had this all happened so fast?
Just yesterday ago, Mom had finally allowed Nikolai into the hospital room. Dinner had gone smoother than I could have imagined. He’d brought over Arabic cuisine from some restaurant that looked like it belonged on a Michelin list, though Mom stuck to the soup and soft dishes due to her recovery. But the moment she heard on call that Nikolai had grown up without a mother, something in her shifted.
It shouldn’t have comforted me. But it did.
That was the start of her warming up to him. The night ended with the three of us watching her favorite drama rerun together on her hospital bed. Surreal didn’t even cover it. It was absolutely ridiculous if you ask me.
Now here we were.
The white tulle of my gown spilled across the room in gentle folds. The fabric shimmered just slightly, like morning dew, catching the light each time I shifted.
"Still breathing?" Alex’s voice cut through my thoughts.
"Barely."
"Good," he grinned. "You’re supposed to feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. That means it’s working."
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue.
Next to me, Fiona—my best friend and maid of honor, was finishing a last-minute check of her pastel purple dress. She looked radiant, her usual sarcastic smirk replaced by something oddly tender.
"I still can’t believe you’re marrying Dmitri’s older brother," she said for the fifth time.
I groaned. "Can we not—"
"No, no, I mean it in the best way possible," she interrupted. "It’s like something out of a novel. Betrayal, revenge, mysterious older billionaire... God, I live for this."
Rachel—dressed in flowing pastel blue—rolled her eyes affectionately. "She’s a dark romance junkie, don’t listen to her."
"I’m standing right here," Fiona muttered.
My eyes flicked to the mirror again.
Was this really me? Was I really about to walk down the aisle? For the past couple years I had imagined myself doing this with George beside me, alive and breathing.
Not to mention him.
His family.
Dmitri.
He would be here. Somewhere. Sitting just a few rows away, watching as his older brother married the woman he was supposed to spend his life with. Watching me in a dress that wasn’t meant for him, with a name that would never belong to him now.
Would he speak?
Would he storm out?
Would he sit quietly, doing nothing—just staring?
My throat tightened.
Would any of it matter now?
Still…
I wasn’t ready to see Dmitri. Not really. Not when a part of me still flinched at the memory of finding him with someone else. Not when the thought of him looking at me with anything other than regret or heartbreak made my stomach twist.
Now? I didn’t even have a father to give me away and my mother was attending my wedding in a wheelchair.
But that was okay. I had made peace with it.
I would walk myself down that aisle.
I had walked myself through so many things already. I could do this too.
I stood as the stylists backed away, their job done. Alex bid me a loud, ‘See you out there!’ as he left taking mom along with him in her wheelchair. Like we had decided earlier.
Fiona placed the bouquet gently in my hands, and Rachel gave my arm a small squeeze. I looked down at the roses—pale pink and white—and drew in a slow, careful breath.
Then I stepped forward.
The hallway outside was quiet. The air felt thicker now, like the calm before a storm. My heels echoed lightly against the polished floor as I moved. At the end of the hallway, double doors stood open. Music floated softly from the courtyard ahead, the beginning notes of the wedding march filtering in from the string quartet playing near the altar.
Sunlight flooded the corridor as I walked into it, flanked on both sides by Fiona and Rachel. The veil over my face added a dreamlike haze to everything, but even through it, I could make out the vivid bursts of color—the lush floral arrangements lining the aisle, the sea of guests in summer silks, the white rose petals scattered beneath my feet.
My eyes obviously scanned the room quickly, trying to find—
My mother, seated at the front. I relaxed as soon as I laid eyes on her. Beside her sat Alex, dabbing at the corner of his eyes with a tissue like this was the most dramatic moment of his life.
But none of that held my attention for long when I turned my gaze to look forward.
Because standing at the altar, in a crisp white tailored suit that fit him like it had been sewn onto his frame, was Nikolai.
And he was looking at me.
Not smirking. Not teasing. Not being his usual too-slick-for-his-own-good self. He looked stunned. Like he hadn’t expected me to look like this.
His jaw was clenched slightly, and for once, I couldn’t read his expression.
Was that...awe?
Or surprise?
I stepped forward slowly, feeling my heartbeat sync to the sound of the quartet’s soft harmonies.
One step. Another. Each footfall echoing in my ears louder than anything else.
Nikolai’s eyes didn’t move from mine.
And then—
I saw him.
Just beyond the aisle.
Standing near the back row.
Dmitri.
His face pale.
His eyes wide with disbelief.
Like he was watching a ghost walk down the aisle.
And for a single, splintered second—I couldn’t breathe.
My heart stuttered, and I forgot everything: where I was, who I was walking toward, what this day even meant.
Because those eyes—the same ones that used to look at me like I was everything—now looked at me like I was a stranger.
A stranger about to become his brother’s wife.