Free Web NovelChapter 22: Alone in our Wedding
In Asteria’s Room
The guest suite was silent except for the soft, muffled sound of crying. The bed was still made, the pillows fluffed, the duvet was smooth and untouched. Everything in the room was perfectly in place—except for the woman who was supposed to be in it.
Asteria was not on the bed.
She was underneath it.
She had crawled into the small space between the floor and the box spring, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs like a shield.
The carpet was soft beneath her, but it did nothing to comfort the trembling that racked her body. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks wet with tears that wouldn’t stop falling no matter how hard she tried to make them stop.
It had become a habit for her to hide whenever she was scared or hurt, because she found comfort under beds. The small, enclosed space made her feel safe.
No one could find her here or hurt her here.
She had been doing this since she was a child, crawling under her bed in the Auclair mansion while her father’s footsteps thundered past her door.
Under the bed, the monsters couldn’t reach her. Under the bed, she could pretend she didn’t exist.
"N-No one..." she whispered through shaky sobs, her voice barely audible, "no one will find you here~~~ the monsters can’t find you here~~~"
She patted her own shoulder, a self-soothing gesture she had learned as a child when there was no one else to comfort her. Her hand moved in slow pats, trying to calm the storm inside her chest.
The motion was mechanical, almost trance-like, something she had done so many times that her body remembered it even when her mind was lost.
But the storm wouldn’t calm.
She could still see Keres’s face—that cold, cruel smile, the way her eyes had glinted with something dark and dangerous. The memory of that smile triggered others memories she had tried so hard to bury deep beneath layers of forced smiles and endurance.
Her father’s fist connecting with her stomach. Her mother’s cold stare as she walked past without helping, without even pausing. The sound of her siblings’ laughter as she crawled to her feet, blood dripping from her lip.
The feeling of being unwanted, unloved, a burden to everyone around her.
"D-Don’t worry~~~" she continued, her voice cracking like thin ice over dark water. "It’ll pass~~~ it’ll pass, Asteria~~~ the monsters are gone~ they won’t reach you here~"
Her entire body was shaking, uncontrollable tremors that she couldn’t stop no matter how tightly she held herself. She pressed her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing.
In and out. In and out.
"This will pass~" she repeated, the words becoming a prayer, a desperate plea to a universe that had never listened to her before.
She heaved a shaky sigh and slowly opened her eyes. The darkness under the bed was familiar—she had spent so many nights like this, curled up in a ball, waiting for the fear to fade. Waiting for the pain to stop. Waiting for morning to come and prove that she had survived another day.
Different houses, different beds, but the same darkness. The same fear. The same small, trembling girl hiding from a world that didn’t want her.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, Asteria smiled.
She let her mind drift to the only memories that brought her warmth—her grandparents. Her grandfather’s strong arms lifting her onto his shoulders so she could see the world from above. His deep laugh that rumbled through his chest like distant thunder, shaking her small body in the best way.
Her grandmother’s soft voice singing lullabies in the evening, her wrinkled hands were gentle as they brushed through Asteria’s hair, her fingers smelling of lavender and tea. The way they had looked at her like she mattered, like she was precious, like she was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
She had been seven years old when they took her in. Her parents already despised her by then, calling her names, pushing her away, pretending she didn’t exist unless they needed someone to blame. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
But her grandparents protected her. They shielded her from the cruelty, wrapped her in warmth and love, taught her that she was worthy of kindness. She never had to experience beatings while she was with them and she never had to hide under beds or flinch at sudden movements or apologize for existing.
For three years, she had been happy.
For three years, she had believed that maybe she wasn’t a jinx after all.
But those beautiful memories blurred, like watercolors in the rain, colors bleeding into each other until the images were unrecognizable.
The car accident.
She remembered everything—the screech of tires against asphalt, a sound that still made her flinch whenever she heard it. The shatter of glass exploding around her like diamonds, sharp and bright and endless.
The way the world had tilted and spun before coming to a violent stop, her small body thrown against the seatbelt, her neck snapping forward. She remembered the smell of smoke and gasoline, thick and acrid, choking her lungs.
The taste of blood on her lips, warm and metallic. The ringing in her ears that drowned out all other sounds, a high-pitched whine that seemed to go on forever.
She were just ten years old that time, small and injured, blood trickling down her forehead from a gash she didn’t even feel. But she hadn’t cried for herself.
She had called out to her grandparents, shaking their shoulders, tugging at their clothes, screaming their names until her voice gave out and all that remained was silence.
They never woke up.
Because of that accident, her parents’ hatred toward her deepened. They saw it as proof—proof that Asteria was cursed, that she brought misfortune to everyone around her, that she was bad luck.
They told her so, over and over, until the words became truth. Growing up, she had heard the word so many times that it became a part of her, a label carved into her skin like a brand that would never fade.
"Jinx~~~" she whispered to herself, the word bitter on her tongue, tasting of old pain and older tears. She had said it so many times that it no longer felt like an insult. It felt like a fact.
Like the sky being blue and the grass being green. She was a jinx. That was simply who she was.
That became her nickname while she grew up. Not Asteria, not a daughter, nor a sister.
Jinx. The girl who ruined everything she touched. The girl who killed her own grandparents. The girl whose very existence was a punishment to everyone around her.
"I’m a jinx." Her voice was flat, accepting, drained of emotion. "I brought this to myself~"
She continued to sob silently, her tears soaking into the carpet beneath her cheek, leaving dark spots on the cream-colored fabric. She didn’t understand why the heavens had chosen to cruelly play her fate like this.
What had she done to deserve any of it? She had been a child—trying to survive. Trying to be good. Trying to be small enough, quiet enough, invisible enough to avoid being notice.
She had never asked for any of this. She had never asked to be born into a family that hated her. She had never asked to survive when her grandparents did not.
"I... I don’t want this, Grandpa~" Her voice broke, cracking like thin ice over dark water. "If you and Grandma can hear me, please help me~ please take me with you~"
She begged through whispered pleas, her words dissolving into sobs, her hands reaching up toward nothing and curled up tighter, making herself as small as possible, and waited for the darkness to swallow her whole.
She waited for the monsters to come. She waited for the morning. She waited for something—anything—to change.
But nothing changed. The darkness remained. The silence remained. And Asteria remained alone, under the bed, crying for grandparents who had been dead for years.
~~~•••~~~
Another Month Passed
The morning of the wedding arrived with gray skies and a light drizzle that tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. The weather matched Asteria’s mood—somber, uncertain, heavy with the threat of storms that might never come.
The clouds hung low and thick, blocking out the sun, casting everything in shades of silver and shadow.
The wedding was finally happening.
Asteria sat in the back of a black luxury car, her wedding gown spread around her like a pool of white silk, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it.
She stared out the window instead, watching the city pass by in a blur of gray and green. She looked pale, fragile, like a porcelain doll that might shatter if someone breathed on her too hard.
She couldn’t even smile properly.
Faye sat beside her, radiant in a soft champagne-colored gown, her hair styled elegantly, her makeup was flawless. She looked like everything Asteria had never had in a mother.
She reached over and took Asteria’s hand, her fingers warm and reassuring against Asteria’s cold skin.
"Hey." Faye’s voice was gentle, coaxing, the voice she used when she wanted to draw Asteria out of her shell. "Smile, sweetheart. Today is your day." She paused, tilting her head to catch Asteria’s eye. "Aren’t you excited?"
Asteria turned to look at Faye, and something in her chest loosened at the sight of the older woman’s genuine smile. Faye’s eyes were bright with happiness, her cheeks slightly flushed, her whole face glowing with the joy of the occasion.
She couldn’t disappoint Faye. Not after everything Faye had done for her.
"You’re right, Mama." Asteria smiled—a genuine smile directed entirely at Faye. "It’s just that... I am thinking about Keres’s feelings about this."
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a small frown. She looked down at their joined hands, at the engagement ring that still felt foreign on her finger, at the way Faye’s thumb stroked across her knuckles in slow, soothing circles.
"Dear." Faye squeezed her hand tightly, her expression turning serious. "Keres is the one who acknowledged this engagement. At the very least, she should be thankful." She shook her head, her expression shifting to something mock-stern, though her eyes remained warm.
"If that girl ever raises a hand on you, you tell me immediately. Do you understand? I don’t care if she’s my own flesh and blood. I will rush to your house and I will discipline her myself. No daughter of mine is going to mistreat the woman she married."
Asteria giggled, Faye’s protective energy was so different from anything she had ever experienced. Her own mother had never defended her, never threatened to protect her, never even looked at her with warmth.
But Faye did all of those things without hesitation, without reservation, without expecting anything in return.
"Thank you, Mama." Asteria’s voice was soft, filled with a gratitude that words could never fully express. "For your support. For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you."
Faye nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Of course, my dear. Anything for you. You’re my daughter now, and I will always, always be in your corner. No matter what happens. No matter what Keres does or says."
The car slowed as they approached the wedding venue—a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, with gardens that stretched for acres and a glass chapel that sparkled even under gray skies.
Asteria could see cars lined up along the driveway, guests in formal attire, white chairs arranged in neat rows. Flowers decorated every surface—white roses and pink peonies. It looked like something out of a dream, something too beautiful to be real.
But something was wrong.
Alfonso appeared at the car window, his expression troubled, his brows furrowed deeply. He gestured for Faye to roll down the window, and she did immediately, her hand already reaching for her phone.
"What’s happening?" Faye asked, her voice sharp with concern.
Alfonso leaned down, keeping his voice low so the other guests wouldn’t hear. His face was tight, his jaw clenched. "Faye, Keres didn’t come."
Faye’s eyes widened. "What?!" The word came out louder than she intended, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.
"Everyone is waiting," Alfonso continued, his voice tight with barely concealed frustration. "And Keres sent me a text message." He pulled out his phone and showed it to Faye. The message was short, dismissive, almost insulting: "In an important meeting. Can’t be reached. Start without me."
"Oh, that kid—" Faye’s face flushed with anger, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. She looked ready to storm out of the car, march to Keres’s office, and drag her daughter to the altar by her ear.
Her nostrils flared. Her eyes narrowed. She looked every bit the formidable matriarch she was.
But Asteria smiled—softly, sadly, with an acceptance that broke Faye’s heart—and placed her hand on Faye’s arm.
"It’s okay, Mama."
Faye turned to look at her, confusion and outrage flickering across her face.
"What do you mean, okay?" Her voice rose slightly. "Asteria, this is your wedding day! She can’t just—she can’t just not show up! This is supposed to be one of the most important days of your life.
"We can still continue the wedding." Asteria’s voice was calm, though her heart was cracking inside her chest like a mirror struck by a stone.
"Let’s just tell everyone that Keres had something important to attend to. We can do the ceremony first, and if we have more time, we can do the official wedding later." She paused, her smile trembling slightly.
"It doesn’t have to be perfect, Mama. It just has to be done."
Faye and Alfonso exchanged a glance—both of them searching for the right words to convince Asteria that she deserved better than this.
That she deserved a partner who would show up than scraps of attention and empty gestures.
But Asteria’s expression was firm, and neither of them could find it in their hearts to argue.
Alfonso sighed deeply and nodded. "Okay. Let’s do that."
He stepped back from the car and immediately informed the wedding coordinator, his voice low and urgent. The coordinator nodded, her face professional and composed, and began making announcements to the waiting guests.
The whispers started immediately—guests exchanging confused glances, wondering where the Keres was, why the bride was alone.
Faye tried calling Keres again—once, twice, three times—but each call went straight to voicemail. The automated message played over and over.
Frustration growing on Faye’s face. She sighed and slipped her phone back into her clutch, her shoulders sagging.
No one noticed the frown on Asteria’s face.
She sat in the car, her wedding gown spread around her like a cloud, and stared out the window at the glass chapel.
The feeling of abandonment settled over her like a cold blanket, it felt suffocating. She had felt it before—so many times, in so many ways—and yet it never got easier.
Each time, she thought she might be used to it by now. Each time, she was wrong.
She knew Keres hated this marriage. She had known it from the very beginning, from the first cold glance and the first cruel word, from the prenuptial agreement and the threats and the way Keres looked at her like she was nothing.
Keres had never wanted her, had never pretended to want her, had made that abundantly clear every time they were in the same room.
And though this situation was no different from her three ex-husbands who had abused her—another marriage without love, another ceremony without joy—at least this was bearable.
Keres never hit her. Keres never raised a hand to her. The cruelty was in the indifference, not the violence. And Asteria had learned long ago that indifference was easier to survive. She could endure cold shoulders, endure silence and being ignored.
What she couldn’t endure was another fist.
"Okay," she whispered to herself, her breath fogging the window. "Okay."
She stepped out of the car, her heels sinking slightly into the damp grass, and walked toward the chapel alone. Faye and Alfonso followed behind her, their presence warm but unable to fill the emptiness inside her chest.
The guests turned to watch her walk down the aisle—a lone bride, beautiful and broken, with no groom waiting at the altar. Whispers followed her like shadows, words she couldn’t hear but could feel, pressing against her back like unwanted hands.
But Asteria kept her chin lifted. She kept her shoulders straight. She smiled—the kind that cost her everything to maintain—and walked forward.
Because that was what she did. That was who she was. She endured. She survived. She kept walking, even when there was no one waiting for her at the end, even when the path was dark and cold and lonely.
She had been walking alone her entire life.
This was no different.
And somewhere behind her, Faye wiped a tear from her eye and followed her daughter into the chapel, her heart heavy with a grief she couldn’t name.
