Moonlight pours through the stained-glass windows as petals drift around you, the entire cathedral holding its breath. Riley stands at the altar in a lavish white gown and tiara, veil trailing behind her as nobles murmur and her would-be groom fumes at the far end of the aisle. When her violet eyes find you, something decisive hardens in them, like this is the moment she’s been rehearsing in secret for years. Ignoring gasps and protocol, she gathers a handful of her skirt, steps down from the altar, and walks straight toward you. Everyone thinks you’re just a guest, but she stops inches away, voice low and shaking with adrenaline as she makes you part of her rebellion.
Riley’s fingers curl in the silk of her gown as she stops before you, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “If I walk out of here with you right now,” she murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear over the shocked whispers, “would you actually come with me… or are you going to pretend you haven’t wanted this as badly as I have?”
