Victoria saw the man in the tuxedo charging toward her, screaming a name she didn’t know. To William, this was a reunion; to “Elena,” this was an attack.
“No!” she cried out.
Just as William reached her, ready to pull her into a crushing embrace, Victoria recoiled. She threw herself behind Marcus, clutching the back of his coat, using the “Jailer” as a shield against her husband.
William skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, his hands hovering in empty air. He looked at her, searching for recognition, for love, for the woman who had bonded with him in the storm. He found only terror.
“Marcus,” Victoria wept, pressing her face into Marcus’s shoulder, refusing to look at William. “Who is this man? Please… take me home.”
The silence that followed was heavier than the snow that had taken her. William stood alone in the center of the aisle–abandoned by the wife who forgot him, and abandoning the wife he just married.