Bella sat outside, tucked into the shadows of the venue's back garden, the soft hum of the reception music spilling through the open doors. Twinkling wedding lights draped across the hedges and trees, casting delicate patterns on the ground and illuminating the distant laughter and chatter. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with the faint aroma of candle wax, their flickering flames dancing in the light breeze that stirred the air. The stone path leading into the garden was lined with fairy lights, glimmering like scattered stars, their soft glow barely reaching Bella as she nestled deeper into the shadows.
Her dress, a beautiful shade of deep emerald, shimmered faintly under the cool moonlight, but it did little to distract from the heaviness in her chest. The fabric clung to her frame, making her feel both fragile and out of place. She absentmindedly twirled the remaining wine in her glass, the dark red liquid catching the light as it swirled around the rim, mirroring the storm in her heart. Her breath came in shallow sighs, the night air cool against her skin, yet unable to ease the ache that spread through her. She should be happy—she should be smiling with everyone else inside, celebrating the best day of her best friend's life. But instead, a bitter knot twisted in her stomach, thick as the wine that now stained her lips. The warmth of the celebration felt a world away, and all that remained was the lonely stretch of garden and the ache of unspoken feelings.
The laughter and music from the reception drifted through the open doors, each cheerful sound like salt in her wound. She glanced down at her half-empty bottle, fingers wrapped tight around the neck, and took another long, bitter sip.
"Bella," a voice called, sharp and low, cutting through the silence of the garden. Bella looked up, her gaze meeting Edward's as he stepped into the dim light. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, the fabric glistening faintly in the moonlight, crisp and elegant, with the subtle sheen of luxury. His tie was a dark, almost imperceptible shade of burgundy, just enough to stand out against the formality of his look. His hair, normally tousled, was neatly combed back, every strand in place, adding to the rigid perfection of his appearance. His sharp green eyes gleamed with a hard intensity, his jaw clenched as if he'd swallowed every ounce of frustration and bottled it up.
Edward moved toward her with a tense, purposeful stride, his posture straight, almost militaristic. He stood before her with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, the air around him thick with restraint. Without asking, his hand reached out, grasping the bottle from her fingers with a firm, almost possessive grip. His expression remained unreadable, his lips a thin line as he held her gaze, his presence coldly commanding.
"Hey!" she slurred, reaching for it, the alcohol making her slow and clumsy. Edward kept it just out of her reach, his face darkening.
"You're a mess," he muttered, disgust slipping into his voice. "Why are you out here?"
"I'm not…" Bella started, but her voice faltered, tangled with the burn of frustration and exhaustion. She was too tired to fight, too raw to care. "Just give it back, Edward."
But he didn't. His hand shot out, snatching the bottle from her grip with a speed that made her flinch. His eyes, once sharp, darkened—hardened—as if they were steel, cutting through her. The green in them deepened, narrowed, and something colder flickered behind his gaze. His lips thinned into a tight, unforgiving line, and without warning, he slapped her hard, the sharp crack of it echoing through the garden.
Bella's breath hitched, her cheek stinging, but before she could react, his fingers curled around her jaw, gripping it with a force that left no room for escape. He tilted her face upward, forcing her to meet his glare, the tension in his posture like a coiled spring ready to snap.
"Don't embarrass me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't embarrass us. Not here, Bella." His grip tightened painfully, his knuckles pressing into her skin. "Don't make a fool out of me, Bella. For once."
There was no softness in his touch, no sign of the man she once knew. Only a cold demand that made her insides twist with something between shame and anger.
She glared back, tears of anger and shame stinging her eyes. His grip tightened just enough to hurt, and when he finally let go, she could feel the ache settling in her lip, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue.
Without a word, Bella turned sharply on her heel, the sound of her heels tapping sharply against the marble floor as she moved away from Edward. She weaved through the crowd, the low murmur of conversation blending with the soft strains of a romantic ballad playing over the speakers. The venue around her felt like a distant, foreign world. The grand hall stretched before her, walls draped in delicate white linen that rippled softly in the gentle draft from the open windows. Crystal chandeliers hung like stars, their light reflecting off the polished floors, casting a golden glow over everything, making the room feel dreamlike, ethereal.
Guests in elegant gowns and sharp tuxedos moved in and out of clusters, laughing, clinking glasses, and exchanging compliments. Their voices were warm, their smiles bright, but to Bella, they all felt distant, like silhouettes through a fog. She passed them without seeing, her mind consumed by the heat curling in her chest, the swirl of wine in her blood. The edges of her vision were starting to blur, her movements unsteady as the alcohol began to take hold, loosening her muscles and clouding her thoughts. She could feel the weight of their gazes—curious, judgmental, indifferent—as she navigated through the crowd. Their laughter, once cheerful, now felt like a distant echo, mocking her isolation.
When she reached the bathroom, she barely registered the cool marble countertop beneath her fingertips as she leaned forward into the mirror. The reflection staring back at her seemed unfamiliar, her face flushed, eyes red-rimmed and heavy. She dabbed at her lip where Edward's slap had left a sting, her hand trembling slightly. Her makeup was smudged, streaks of mascara running under her eyes, as if her emotions had bled out of her in dark, messy lines.
The woman in the mirror looked defeated, small—broken, even. The wine coursing through her veins only made her feel more fragile, more exposed, the bitter tang of it still sharp on her tongue. Bella couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so distant from herself, her heart heavy with everything she didn't want to confront.
The door creaked open behind her, and Bella tensed, half-expecting Edward to follow. But instead, Alice stepped in, her presence filling the small, quiet space. The soft rustle of her wedding dress swept across the tiled floor, the fabric shimmering in the dim light as it flowed gracefully behind her. Bella's breath caught in her throat. Alice looked nothing short of breathtaking. Her hair, styled in soft waves that framed her face perfectly, was pinned with delicate silver accents, catching the light and making her look like a vision. Her makeup was flawless—her skin glowing with a soft, ethereal radiance, her eyes lined perfectly, and her lips painted a soft rose that only heightened the natural beauty of her smile. The flush of champagne still lingered on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with the remnants of laughter and joy. She looked like a dream—untouchable and perfect.
But as Alice's gaze landed on Bella, her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing with concern as she took in the state of her friend. The warmth in her expression began to fade, replaced by a quiet sadness, as if Bella's pain was something she could feel in her bones.
"Oh my god, Bella," Alice whispered, stepping closer. "What happened?" Her eyes softened, and Bella could see the glimmer of concern breaking through her tipsy haze.
"It's nothing," Bella murmured, dropping her gaze. She forced a smile, masking the storm raging beneath. "Just clumsy."
Alice reached up, brushing her thumb gently across Bella's lip, a hint of disbelief in her expression. "That doesn't look clumsy." Her fingers lingered, soft against the bruised skin, and Bella's heart hammered in her chest.
For a moment, the world outside faded. All of the laughter, the music, the sound of her own heartbreak. All that remained was Alice, inches away, looking at her with an intensity that was almost palpable.
"You can talk to me, you know," Alice murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Bella forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes and started to change the subject. "Congratulations, Alice. You're…happy, right?"
Alice hesitated, the question hanging between them, heavy and unanswered.
Bella watched Alice turn away, the moment slipping through her fingers as she moved to the next mirror. Alice's hands went to the smooth fabric of her dress, carefully smoothing out invisible wrinkles, her movements graceful and practised. Bella could only stare, torn between the urge to reach out and the painful awareness that Alice was just out of reach.
"Of course I'm happy," Alice said, her tone light, like she was reassuring herself as much as Bella. She unscrewed the cap of a small tube of lip gloss hidden in the small clutch purse, leaning close to the mirror as she applied it. Each swipe of the wand left her lips glossy, perfect, just as a bride's should be.
Bella swallowed, her throat tight. "Good. I mean…that's…great."
Alice's eyes flicked to Bella's reflection in the mirror, just for a second, before she looked back to her own. "I know this isn't easy for you, Bells. Me getting married and all." Her voice softened, but her focus remained on her lips, pressing them together to spread the gloss evenly.
"Why would it be hard for me?" Bella's voice cracked, though she tried to sound casual. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from saying the words she'd buried for years. ANd lord knew the half a bottle of win wasn't helping matters.
Alice capped the lip gloss, her reflection turning toward Bella with an unreadable expression. "Because…" Her gaze dropped, then lifted again, soft and searching. "You're my best friend, Bella. You've always been there for me. I just…I don't know. I thought maybe… I don't know."
Bella's mouth went dry, and her heart pounded as she held Alice's gaze. She wanted to say it, to tell Alice the truth, to pour out every feeling she'd kept hidden. But Alice's smile was already back, faint and composed, the moment slipping through Bella's grasp again.
"I'm glad you're here tonight," Alice said, her voice warm. "It wouldn't have been the same without you."
Bella's chest tightened as Alice's reflection lingered in the mirror, that faint, unreadable look softening into something more genuine. Instead of leaving, Alice reached for a tissue from the counter and turned back to Bella, her brow furrowed.
"Here," Alice said quietly, stepping close and lifting the tissue to Bella's lip. She dabbed at the blood with gentle care, her fingers warm against Bella's skin. Her touch was delicate, focused, as though Bella might break if she pressed too hard.
Alice's frown deepened, her eyes flicking from the cut to Bella's, searching. "Please tell me, who did this, honey?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Bella forced a shaky laugh, glancing away. "Just…clumsy. Like I said."
But Alice didn't let her look away. She kept dabbing at Bella's lip, her gaze never wavering. "Right." Her voice softened, and Bella felt a pang of something dangerously close to hope in the way Alice's hand lingered, her thumb brushing gently along Bella's cheek.
Their eyes met, and Bella's breath hitched. There was something in Alice's gaze, something that flickered just for a moment, fragile, before she dropped her eyes to the tissue in her hand, now tinged with blood.
"You know…" Alice started, her voice barely a whisper. "If there's ever anything you need to tell me…anything at all…" She trailed off, hesitating, her thumb brushing a soft circle against Bella's cheek.
Bella's heart thundered, her mind screaming to just say it, to just tell her. But the words tangled in her throat, heavy with fear and longing. Instead, she just whispered, "Alice, I…"
Alice's gaze lifted, and for a heartbeat, Bella thought she saw something there, a flash of understanding, of something unsaid between them.
Alice's lips curved in the smallest of smiles, tender but guarded. "You're my best friend, Bella. I hate seeing you hurt like this." Her thumb brushed over Bella's bruised lip once more, lingering as though she was reluctant to pull away.
But she didn't move, her hand still on Bella's cheek, close enough for Bella to feel the warmth radiating from her skin, to feel the tension thrumming between them.
As Alice's hand lingered on her cheek, the warmth and closeness began to dissolve Bella's hesitation. The wine pulsed in her veins, its effects blurring the boundaries she'd tried so hard to keep. Her heart raced as Alice's fingers brushed one last time over her bruised lip, and then, as if waking from a dream, Alice took a step back.
But Bella couldn't let her go—not now.
Before she could think, she reached out, catching Alice's wrist, pulling her back. Her other hand found Alice's waist, and in one desperate motion, Bella leaned in, capturing Alice's lips with her own. The kiss was fierce and unrestrained, all the years of unspoken words pouring out in the way she held Alice close, her fingers twisting in the fabric of Alice's wedding dress, gripping as though Alice might slip away if she didn't.
Alice gasped, her body tense in Bella's arms, but she didn't pull away. Bella's hands moved up, one tangling into Alice's hair, winding around the back of her neck to bring her closer, her fingers curling into the loose curls. She held Alice like she was afraid to let go, like the moment might shatter if she loosened her grip.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but them; no wedding, no husband, no expectations. Just Bella's lips on Alice's, soft and urgent, tasting the faint sweetness of champagne mixed with her own lingering wine.
Then Alice's hands found Bella's shoulders, her grip hesitant, as though she couldn't decide whether to push Bella away or pull her closer. But she didn't let go, didn't pull away. Bella could feel the warmth of Alice's fingers, the slight tremor in her touch, the way her lips softened in response.
Finally, Alice drew back, breathless, her eyes wide and searching Bella's face. Her lips were flushed, her gaze filled with a mixture of surprise, confusion and something else, something Bella had only dreamed might be there.
"Oh sweetheart…" Alice whispered, her voice barely a breath. Her fingers still rested on Bella's shoulders, not letting go, not pulling away.
Bella met her stare, her own voice thick with the weight of years and way too much alcohol. "I couldn't… I couldn't watch you leave."
Alice looked down, her expression conflicted, a trace of sadness in her eyes as she took a shaky breath. Her fingers drifted up to Bella's cheek, lingering, soft, hesitant. "Bella," she whispered again, voice breaking. She glanced at her own wedding ring, the small band glinting under the bathroom lights.
But she didn't let go.
With a deep shuddering breath Alice took a step back, her fingers trembling as she touched the wedding ring on her hand. The movement was almost instinctive, like an anchor to steady herself, a reminder of where she was supposed to be. She blinked, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and for a second, Bella thought she saw something flash in her eyes, a flicker of hurt or maybe confusion. It tugged at her heart strings either way.
"I… I have to get back… to Jasper," Alice stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words would make everything normal again.
Guilt surged through Bella, twisting in her stomach like a knife. She swallowed hard, her face flushed as she dropped her gaze, feeling the weight of what she'd just done. Of course, Alice had to go back to her husband. This was her wedding day. How could she have been so selfish?
"Yeah," Bella whispered, trying to ignore the ache in her chest, the bitterness of her own heart's betrayal. "Of course you do."
Alice took a shaky breath, and for a moment, she just stood there, staring at Bella as though searching for something; an answer, an apology, maybe even an understanding that neither of them could find. But there was only silence, thick and suffocating.
She finally looked away, blinking rapidly as she seemed to gather herself, and without another word, she turned and slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Bella alone, her heart still racing, her hands cold and empty. The taste of Alice's kiss lingered on her lips, bittersweet and fleeting, like the last traces of a dream slipping away.
As the door swung shut behind Alice, Bella's heart sank, the weight of what she'd just done settling over her. She stood frozen in the empty bathroom, staring at the closed door, replaying the shock on Alice's face, the way she'd touched her lips as if the kiss had burned. Her best friend since high school—the person who'd been there through everything—had looked at her with a mix of confusion and hurt she'd never seen before.
What had she done?
Bella pressed her hands to her temples, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes. Years of friendship, of shared secrets, of late-night talks and laughter… Had she just thrown it all away? She could almost hear the words of her own insecurities whispering, mocking her. She'd risked everything on a single moment, one impulsive, reckless kiss. And now Alice was gone, probably furious or heartbroken, or worse.
Taking a shaky breath, Bella steeled herself and stepped out of the bathroom. She couldn't stay hidden away, couldn't keep running from her own mistakes. Her legs felt like granite as she walked back toward the reception, every step echoing her dread. She told herself that she'd find Alice later, maybe apologise, maybe try to explain…but even the thought made her stomach twist.
When she finally reached the reception hall, she found Edward casually chatting with a girl she didn't recognize. They were both laughing, the girl leaning a bit too close, but Bella didn't care. She didn't feel the sharp sting of jealousy or annoyance she might have on any other day. Tonight, it was just…empty. Everything she'd wanted was slipping away, and nothing else mattered.
Edward turned as he saw her approach, his smile faltering slightly as he took in her expression. "You alright?" he asked, brow furrowing.
Bella forced a weak smile, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears. "Fine," she replied, her eyes drifting to the dance floor where Alice's laughter echoed, faint and far away, blending into the music and the laughter of people Bella barely noticed.
But deep down, she knew something had broken tonight. She'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and now she was left with only the ache of what she might have lost forever.
Edward led Bella back to their table, his grip just a little too tight around her wrist, his expression a mask of concern that didn't quite reach his eyes. He guided her into her chair with a practised calm, leaning in close, his voice low and smooth. His soft lips grazing the shell of her ear.
"You sure you're okay?" he murmured, his tone gentle to anyone listening nearby. But Bella could see the flicker of irritation just beneath the surface, the impatience he didn't bother to hide when they were alone. He didn't care why she'd needed a moment away or how hard it was for her to be here, this was just about keeping up appearances.
She nodded, swallowing hard. The ache in her lip was a constant reminder, a dull throb that wouldn't let her forget the last time he'd been "concerned" for her. She kept her gaze down, her fingers twisting in her lap as she tried to steady herself, wishing she were anywhere else.
Edward slid his hand over hers on the table, his thumb tracing small, controlled circles, but the pressure was firm, possessive. To anyone watching, it would look like a loving gesture, but Bella knew better. He was making sure she stayed put, that she didn't draw any more attention.
"You looked like a mess when you came back," he said quietly, his voice light but with a bite underneath. "Keep it together, okay? It's not a good look."
Bella bit her tongue, a fresh wave of shame and anger mixing with the guilt already churning inside her. She forced herself to nod, feeling trapped, caged by his touch and the expectations. She felt his fingers tighten just a bit before he pulled his hand away, a small, practised smile on his lips as he glanced around to make sure no one had noticed anything amiss.
Across the room, her gaze landed on Alice, radiant in her wedding dress, laughing and carefree.
How could she have been so foolish to think, even for a second, that things could be different?
She looked back down at her lap, her voice barely a whisper. "Of course, love," she said, empty words meant to placate him. She felt hollow, the ache in her chest and lip a reminder of everything she'd lost, of everything she would never have.
Edward's hand returned to her shoulder, his grip just a little too tight, as if to remind her of her place.
Bella's chest felt heavy, the night sinking deeper with every second. She couldn't stand the fake smiles, the hollow conversations, the air thick with love and happiness. She couldn't stay here, not with everything breaking apart inside her. Without a word to Edward, without a second glance at anyone else, she pushed herself up from the table, her legs a little unsteady beneath her, and made her way toward the bar.
Her fingers brushed against the bottles on the nearest shelf, eyes scanning them quickly, and without hesitation, she grabbed the first one she could reach. A bottle of vodka. She didn't care how it looked, didn't care that she was making a spectacle of herself, didn't care about anything anymore. Not the wedding, not Edward, and certainly not the friendship she'd just ruined.
She unscrewed the cap, took a swig straight from the bottle, and winced at the burn. It felt good, in a way, even if it was fleeting. The sting of alcohol on her tongue was the only thing that grounded her, the only thing that felt real in this blur of emotions.
Her footsteps were clumsy as she walked toward the door, the weight of the bottle heavy in her hand. People glanced up, but Bella didn't even register their stares. Let them think what they wanted. She may have just lost her best friend for good, and Edward, well, he hated her now. What did it matter how she looked to anyone?
Outside, she barely noticed the cold air as she stumbled to the curb, calling a taxi with the flick of her fingers, the phone slipping slightly from her grip as the vodka worked its magic.
When the car pulled up, she didn't care about how she must have looked, messy, drunk, like someone who didn't have the faintest clue what they were doing. She didn't even bother with the door, just opened it herself and slid into the backseat, throwing the bottle onto the floor of the taxi with a careless thud.
The driver gave her a glance in the rearview mirror, but Bella didn't meet his eyes. She leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, letting the motion of the car sway her, the vodka settling warm in her stomach. The night had slipped away from her—everything had slipped away—and all she wanted was silence.
She wasn't sure where the taxi was going, faintly remembering to mumble something about the hotel she was staying in. She didn't care. All she knew was that it was away from here, away from the wedding, away from Edward, and away from the ghost of Alice that would haunt her for as long as she lived.
Another new idea I had floating around, remember to review if you want to see more!