Chapter 7 - The Evaporation of Joy
Elena took a third step, her bright eyes sweeping across the sunny courtyard, her practiced, picture-perfect smile firmly in place. But as her gaze landed on the center of the lawn, her steps stalled, and her smile didn't just fade—it vanished instantly, as if wiped away by an invisible hand. David was not standing tall. He was kneeling in the damp dirt, his expensive tuxedo coat wrinkled, his head bowed in a posture of complete psychological defeat. Lily was standing before him, weeping silently, her small body trembling. The idyllic, romantic scene Elena had built in her mind cracked violently down the middle, replaced by a picture of raw, unsettling chaotic energy. The warm, golden daylight suddenly felt harsh and clinical, exposing the sharp tension thick in the air. Elena’s hand tightened around her bouquet of orchids until her knuckles turned red. She knew David better than anyone—she had studied his body language, learned the exact tone his voice took when he was slipping into panic, and knew every shadow of his past. The man kneeling before her was not experiencing pre-wedding jitters; he was a man who had just been shattered. Her sharp eyes dropped from his pale face to his right hand, zeroing in on the small, crumpled piece of paper he held. A cold, aggressive spark of instinct flared in Elena’s chest. An intruder had breached her perimeter.
