Bad Dream

"Joanna, Joanna!" someone called, making me turn my head. She stood in the doorway with a pained face and heavy breathing, looking briefly at me, who was adjusting a white dress with a veil on my head. She didn't speak immediately but instead came closer to me and, with teary eyes, took my fingers to hold. "Please don't be surprised by the news I have for you."

I blinked uncomprehendingly, casting my eyes around the room and the doorway to ensure my best friend wasn't joking.

"Your husband-to-be is not in his room," she said, which didn't surprise me. My boyfriend was a man who got bored and nervous easily, so I guessed he went out for a bit to get some fresh air before waiting for me at the altar. Was that so?

"He's probably just taking a walk. Marriage is a thrilling thing. It's only natural–" I didn't get a chance to continue my sentence because my best friend shook her head hard, then handed me a piece of paper. "What's this?"

"Read it. It's what he left on the table in his room."

I unfolded the paper hesitantly. It wasn't fragrant like the letters he often sent to express his love for me. I thought it was just because he got nervous. This time might be different because, in a matter of hours, I would become his wife and spend a lifetime together.

However, the fragrance that used to always bring good memories because of what was also written on the surface of the paper was nothing this time except...

This couldn't be. I must be dreaming.

He said that he loved me. Alright, I could accept that. I wanted to have you, he added. So what else? He would be able to have me soon, right? However, instead of writing everything about his nervousness ahead of our wedding, which was only a matter of hours away, he wrote another sentence that automatically managed to shatter my feelings into pieces.

In the letter, he wrote, " Forgive me for making this decision. She is carrying my baby, and I must take responsibility." I knew who he was referring to well because I had witnessed the event just a few months before our wedding.

Call me naive or stupid for sticking around even though I knew my lover had cheated on me, fucking another woman—my stepsister—in the bed that would later become our wedding bed.

"No way," I muttered with tears in my eyes. I still held the letter in both trembling hands. "He's still in the room, right? Ma-maybe he's somewhere outside. Please find him. Tell him the time has come, and we must hurry."

My best friend just shook her head with a sad look on her face, then took me into her arms and let me release the tears I had been holding back.

He was gone. Really gone, and I didn't know what my life would have been like if this marriage had never happened.

After the incident where I caught him fucking that woman right in front of my eyes who watched him climax, I begged him not to leave. I let him do what he liked, even if he insisted on marrying that woman; it didn't matter as long as he didn't leave me.

I couldn't live without him. It was impossible because he was the only one who loved me sincerely. That was what he always said and done. He treated me nicely, and no one could do it but him.

"Joanna, forget him. He doesn't deserve you. Let him go," my best friend said, patting my back. I shook my head hard and ignored the tears starting to ruin my makeup. We were supposed to be married in a few hours, not like this. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to come back, marry me, and after that, it was up to him if he wanted to fuck that bitch in our bed every day. I wouldn't make a sound.

"No, no... we were supposed to get married. Please find him. Bring him to me, please..."

However, I realized no one would accept my stupid and naive request. My groom-to-be had left for another woman, and I shouldn't be crying over him. I shouldn't be this stupid, but why was this pain so intense that it almost killed me?

***

I asked for some time alone, and here I was. On the rooftop of the building that was going to be the venue for the union of my love and my future husband, I chose to leave behind a gaping wound that I wasn't sure when it would heal.

This wound was even worse than when I caught him sleeping with that woman.

If anyone said that he was just playing around or that he was just trying to satisfy his insatiable desire for this old-fashioned me, then that statement was wrong. He only had intense sex with one woman, which resulted in a seed in her womb and made the man who would become my husband dumped me and our marriage.

I looked straight ahead, blurred by tears. All I could see were the glowing lights of the building, which looked tiny from up here. The cityscape, which sometimes looked beautiful from this height, was also suffocating.

What was I going to do here? Was it to end my life? If not, was there anything else I could do to survive after such a heartbreaking, humiliating event?

My cell phone rang repeatedly, and when I picked it up, the person on the other end was scolding me for my misfortune today. To my family, I'd only brought shame. I hadn't invited them at all, but that was what I got.

I stepped onto the footbridge, struggling somewhat because of my dress and still reluctant to take off. Even though the wedding never happened, I wanted to remember when I was so beautiful in a dress like this—the most beautiful dress I'd ever worn, because I'd never have this even if it was just a tutu.

Even though life wasn't on my side, this dress still gave me sweet memories to cherish.

"Hey, what are you doing there?" asked a bass voice that I didn't recognize but made me turn around and look for the voice's whereabouts. There he was. A tall, well-built man wearing a tuxedo stood not far from where I was.

Had he also just been abandoned by his girlfriend on his wedding day? Why would he wear wedding clothes and wander into this place if he had to get married?

"Are you suicidal? Why? Your lover left you at the altar?" I didn't answer his question. "Look, go downstairs, take off that wedding dress, then move on. No one will pity you, and don't let them do that."

"It's none of your business, so don't be a smartass!" I muttered, which made him flash a cynical smile. "Go away! Leave me alone."

"Why should I leave? I didn't come here to get close to you, but because–"

I walked backward as he stepped forward, forgetting I was in a place I shouldn't have been.

No, the gown made me slip. Was I going to die? How did it feel to die? Did it hurt? I even forgot what brought me to this place, and all I remembered was that my body was darting downward, and the roof of the building seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

I was probably going to die. I closed my eyes, which were already shedding tears, and was ready for it all to end. However, I swallowed back the narratives that had gnawed at my mind when a pair of sturdy arms held me comfortably.

My eyes opened, and the man's face appeared not far from me. His pair of hazel irises looked deeply at me, and I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to die.

"Are you serious about ending your life?" he asked deeply and heavily. I took a breath before letting it out. Time seemed to slow down instantly, and I shook my head.

"No, no, no. I wanna live long. I wanna get married; I want someone to kiss me with love and feel what it's like to fuck all night, every day," I replied, which I realized was foolish. It wasn't going to happen. Who would marry an old-fashioned, unspecialized girl like me? Who would kiss me lovingly and make love to me? I was too ugly and had never even received a touch. "I want to feel loved."

"I'll grant it, then. Except for the last request," he said near my ear.

I felt my back hit a surface quite hard but bounced a little, and when I realized, I was in a room, on a comfortable bed, with a well-built man who had me under him.

I couldn't forget the look in those hazel irises—deep but cold, as if to say everything was fine.

My cheeks heated up. It must have been the alcohol I'd been drinking recklessly. When I regained even half-consciousness, it was clear that the man wasn't just clinging me under him and looking at me but was moving rhythmically on top of me, and at that moment, both pain and pleasure began to run through every nerve in my body.

It felt so damn good that it got me moan so hard.

What was going on? Were we making love? What I was feeling was fucking incredible and... I wanted it. More and more, and he was giving it to me.

No, no, no. This must be a dream. It couldn't really happen, and I was just dreaming, right?uik

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