Exclusives ❀ H.S

𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

Carrie Hastings, your future mother-in-law, stood still—her ruddy cheeks flushed and she beamed at the audience. The stage was levitated beneath her feet, giving her speech a dramatic impression. It had been a previous agreement, much to your chagrin, that she would speak at the rehearsal dinner. Yes, the canary yellow color of her gown was majestic, and you would have liked it on any other occasion—though you felt it was rather out of place and eye-catching, forcing you to hold your tongue and keep all complaints to yourself.

           "Mum, mum—I think that's enough," Travis spoke, rising from his seat beside you and walking over to his mother, a gentle smile on his face. You could see through his mask, which these guests seemed to have no idea about, despite his pleasant and presumably compassionate appearance.

Your fiancé had been kind in the earlier days, yes, therefore you could understand why they were so compelled—though his mask rapidly came off after he got that rock on your finger. He knew you'd never be able to leave.

Travis' hands came in contact with his mother's arms, brushing them along her skin and smiling at the older woman. Her red hair, bright and fiery, was the only feature they had in common—as Travis had taken more from his father. However, unmistakably so, they were relatives.

           "Thank you for your speech," He spoke, brown eyes twinkling under the spotlight. His thin lips curved into a smile, the slender stem of a champagne flute pinched between his fingers. The Moët & Chandon sparkled, bubbling in the glass and threatening to spill over the rim—his meaty fingers gripping the glass. He grinned at the audience, including yourself, and moved over towards the microphone—where his mother had just been standing. "Thank you, everyone. This day, tomorrow—had been anticipated for quite a while. I know I have been looking forward to it for some time."

He spared a glance at you, dark eyes burning holes into your own and, if you looked closely, you could see a glint of resentment in his irises. His gaze was piercing, his discontent visible, however, the crowd was blinded by his smile. The man was aware of your antics, especially your sneaking around with his best man, but did nothing to stop you. Even when Harry, the best man, clearly had you—Travis believed he did with that rock on your finger.

You'd met Harry not long after Travis, three years ago, though your relationship had only initiated one year later. You had felt horrible at first, not only for cheating on your significant other, as well as for doing it with his best friend. However, as moments progressed, the sensation faded and your consciousness was filled exclusively with Harry's mossy and bright, scintillating eyes.

When Travis assumed you were at a friend's house, you had truly been sneaking around with Harry, going on dates in coffee shops, and spending the night at his residence. Harry was an angel, everything Travis wasn't—and you could only wish that you had met him, first. Weekends began being spent on dates with your lover, not your boyfriend, scouring the town for new bookshops and flower boutiques. 

Harry would fuck you raw and pound into you from behind, replacing the delightful intimacy you experienced with Travis. He'd mark you, pressing crimson bruises into the satin skin of your neck, which you'd dismiss as curling iron burns. Travis was aware of the situation. Harry began whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how much he loved you—how much he needed you to survive. How you held the key to his heart in your soft palms, Travis was not aware of this.

It was selfish, and cruel, what you were doing. You knew it was, you knew—and yet after a certain amount of time, a certain amount of soft-spoken words and gentle caresses, you didn't mind. The cruelty of your unfaithfulness didn't taint the cruelty of the man you once loved. The man you and once loved was gone, filled with hatred for something you didn't know.