I screamed.
Ethan Anderson yanked me behind him.
Crimson blood bloomed across the wedding dress like red plum blossoms in snow.
Isabella Evans stared at the knife buried in her abdomen.
Her lips trembled, but no sound escaped.
Lucas Roscente released his grip, letting her crumple to the floor.
He turned to me with a twisted smile. "Sophia, nothing stands between us now."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Ethan dialed emergency services, his gaze locked on Lucas.
A chill ran through me as I stared at the man I once loved.
Now, he was a stranger—terrifying and unrecognizable.
"Lucas, have you lost your mind?" My voice shook.
His eyes glazed over as he reached for my face. "For you? I lost it long ago."
Ethan slapped his hand away. "Stay away from my fiancée."
Lucas's expression darkened. "Fiancée? Sophia is my wife! We exchanged vows!"
I swallowed the storm of emotions. "That was another life, Lucas. It's over."
Police cars and ambulances arrived simultaneously.
Medics swiftly loaded Isabella onto a stretcher.
Officers restrained Lucas as he thrashed, his eyes never leaving me.
"Sophia, I'll find you! No matter how many worlds I have to cross!"
His shouts faded into the distance.
The bridal shop fell silent, littered with debris and the metallic tang of blood.
Ethan pulled me close. "It's over. You're safe."
I buried my face in his chest, tears soaking his shirt.
In that moment, I knew—I had made the right choice.
Later, we heard Lucas was committed to a mental hospital.
He muttered to himself endlessly, as if holding conversations with ghosts.
Sometimes he'd grow quiet, smiling at the window.
As though glimpsing some beautiful illusion.
The nurses said he kept repeating one phrase:
"Sophia, in the next world, I'll be better."
Seven days later, Ethan and I held our wedding as planned.