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The Invisible Scars
My brother Liam’s wedding preparations had left everyone in a state of feverish excitement. The air vibrated with anticipation as Denise, his fiancée, orchestrated every detail with methodical precision. I knew Liam better than anyone—his taste for dramatic gestures, his easy laugh that sometimes concealed deeper emotions. When he confided in me that he was working on a “special surprise” for the ceremony, I simply nodded, accustomed to his extravagances.
“Daphne, please,” Denise had begged me while delicately handing over a box of beauty products, “I want you by my side for this important day. You’re not just Liam’s little sister, you’re like my sister too.”
How could I refuse? After all, she was the one who organized my twenty-first birthday when my own friends had let me down. Over the years, our bond had been woven through shared confidences and complicit laughter.
“Does Liam have any doubts?” she had asked during a fitting session, her nervous fingers playing with the lace of her dress.
“Not at all,” I reassured her. “He’s preparing something special for you.”
The Coldness of Silence
On the morning of the wedding, I found my brother strangely serene, a glass of champagne in hand. His enigmatic smile made me uneasy.
“You have no idea what’s going to happen, Daph,” he had whispered, his eyes fixed on an invisible point beyond the window.
The ceremony unfolded like a dream—delicate flowers exhaling their subtle fragrance, soft music enveloping the assembly, everything exactly as Denise had imagined. Guests exchanged tender glances, some already discreetly wiping away tears.
At the moment of the vows, Liam interrupted the priest with a calm gesture.
“I’d like to share something with all of you first,” he announced, his voice carrying to the last bench.
A screen had been set up near the altar. Liam pulled a remote control from his pocket with deliberate slowness. “This is our love story,” he declared.
The images played—their first date, intimate moments at home, romantic trips, cozy dinners. A touching montage that brought smiles and sighs from the assembly.
Then the priest resumed the ceremony, asking if anyone objected to this union.
The Crack
“I do,” said Liam, suddenly letting go of Denise’s hand.
Time stood still. Denise looked at him, incredulous, her face crumbling beneath the tulle veil.
“That’s not funny, Liam,” she whispered.
“This isn’t a joke,” he replied, his voice suddenly unrecognizable.
He raised the remote again. The screen lit up once more. This time, the images showed Denise at their home, in lingerie, in another man’s arms.
Silence fell like a lead blanket. Denise turned pale until she became almost translucent, her trembling lips forming words without sound. In the back row, a man suddenly stood up, cursing under his breath.
“This is why there will be no wedding today,” Liam declared, his calm voice betraying an unspeakable pain. “I couldn’t let us stand here, pretending everything was perfect.”
The Echo of Betrayals
Denise staggered, clumsily removing her stilettos. Her desperate eyes scanned the assembly.
“It’s not what you think,” she pleaded. “Liam, please, can we talk privately?”
Part of me wanted to pity her—this woman I had considered a sister. But the evidence was there, cruel and undeniable.
“How long?” Liam had asked, his voice barely audible.
“Not long,” she stammered. “You weren’t supposed to find out…”
“In our home, Denise?” he retorted, pain distorting his features. “You brought him into our home?”
Guests exchanged uncomfortable glances, some whispering, others petrified. The priest discreetly faded into the background, probably wondering if they needed counseling rather than a blessing.
Liam turned on his heel, abandoning the altar and the devastated bride. Denise rushed after him, calling his name, but he ignored her. His mother hurried after them, desperately trying to save appearances.
Fragile Healing
Later, I found Liam at the hotel bar, emptying glass after glass, an untouched bowl of olives in front of him.
“Did you know?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
“Of course not,” I answered softly.
He explained how, while preparing the video for the wedding, he had stumbled upon Denise’s betrayal.
“I was looking for more photos on her phone,” he said. “And then I found this folder. She hadn’t even locked it.”
He fell silent, finishing his drink.
“Was I wrong to expose her like that?” he asked after a long silence.
I took my time before answering. “No. But maybe you could have done it in private. Now… who knows what she might do.”
Liam nodded, but his expression remained closed. Betrayal had always been a line he would never cross—and would not tolerate.
After a moment, he beckoned to me. “Let’s go eat the wedding cake,” he suggested, his voice almost cheerful. “No sense in wasting that too.”
I followed him to the deserted reception hall, determined to stay by his side. Despite my compassion for Denise, my brother needed me more in this moment.