June’s wedding was a dream until two police officers broke the news about her fiancé. Heartbreak becomes an unexpected journey as the truth emerges. June finds fortitude to start over, love, and a future beyond her wildest dreams among the rubble of a broken promise.
I recall that day like yesterday.
My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest of my life. Instead of marching down the aisle toward my beloved, I was frozen in a large wedding hall, staring at two police officers holding up a photo of him.
“Do you know this man, madam?” Someone asked.
Return to the beginning.
Elias and I met at a local art museum seven months ago. Callie, my best friend, dragged me there on a rainy Thursday night when I would have preferred pizza and a blanket.
“Come on, June,” she said. Some art won’t kill you. You may meet someone who can explain this weirdness.”
“I doubt it,” I said. But fine. Thai food after?”
“Deal.”
Grumbling, I expected pricey wine and hazy interpretations of abstract art. I saw him.
Elias.
Tall, unshaven, paint on his knuckles, relaxed charisma that made you forget to breathe. The surrealist paintings he displayed were luscious dreamscapes that seemed to live and breathe. I paused in front of one, captivated, when a voice came from beside me.
Whatcha think?
I turned. I never knew I had this recollection. It’s…beautiful.”
He grinned. “That’s the nicest thing anyone said all night.”
After that, we talked for hours.
Elias didn’t like status or flash. His small workspace was filled of canvases and smelled like turpentine half the time. He had no car. Street tacos, late-night walks, and napkin sketches were our dates.
But he was kind. He saw me differently.
He muttered, “Don’t move,” one afternoon. “Perfect light.”
He was painting me, and I was trying not to move. I couldn’t shake the restlessness buzzing inside. Like something was coming.
I had no idea how right I was.
In four months, he proposed. We were on a hill at sunset, the breeze carrying his selected wildflowers. A ring with an antique turquoise stone and quivering hands—no speech or crowd.
I murmured “Yes” before he finished the inquiry.
Heart responded me.
I told my parents, especially my father, and things unraveled swiftly.
Wedding a man you’ve known for six months? Vincent, my father, exploded at dinner. He paced with whiskey sloshing in his glass. June, he has nothing. Few paintings and fantasies. Don’t be silly. You have a heritage.”
Dad, Elias cares about me, not money.”
“Exactly. That worries me.”
My mother Nadine was quiet, but her eyes showed uneasiness. Still, I persisted.
I knew Elias. Loved him. It was enough.
My wedding morning nerves were tense. Callie and my bridesmaids prepared me in the hall’s upper bridal suite. Lace, pearls, and a racing heart made me feel royal.
“Do you think dad will behave today?” While curling my hair, Callie asked.
I responded, grasping my chair edge, “He said he would try.” As close as he’ll get to a benediction.
Ceremony time was 2 p.m. No texts on my phone at 1:30. Still nothing at 2:15.
At 2:40, whispers began.
“Where’s the groom?”
Has anyone heard from him?”
I checked my phone again. No call, no text. Elias was tried twice more. Voicemail.
The big oak hall doors burst open as I reached for my phone again.
Two uniformed police entered.
“Ma’am?” one asked, purposefully approaching me. “Know this man?”
They displayed a photo.
My heart stopped.
“Yes,” I inhaled. That’s Elias. My fiance. What’s happening? Is he okay?
Officers glanced loadedly.
We’re sorry, but your fiancé was arrested. He was arrested today trying to break into your family’s estate.”
I heard gasps behind me. Someone dropped their drink. I barely noticed.
My knees buckled. “What? That’s wrong. Elias would never…
He was found on property. He escaped, but we caught him near the warehouses.”
Dad’s voice roared throughout the room.
“I told you!” he roared. He’s a fraud. Thief of gold! I predicted his betrayal. Now look!”
I turned to the officers with tears. “Can we visit him? I must speak to him.”
“Of course,” said one. You and your parents, if desired.”
Vincent immediately grabbed his coat, his face triumphant and furious. My mother followed silently. As I grabbed my skirt and followed the cops outside, I barely noticed my companions’ whispers or inquisitive glances.
Suffocating ride. White satin on my outfit felt like a noose. My father muttered insults, but I just heard my heart thumping.
I frowned as we drove up to an abandoned warehouse on the city’s fringe.
“This isn’t the police station,” I exclaimed, puzzled.
The officer cryptically said, “This is part of the investigation,” opening the car door.
Standing in the wind, I held my gown.
Warehouse doors creaked.
Oh, I gasped.
Inside, industrial walls were painted in bright colors. A floor-to-ceiling mural dominated the middle. I immediately recognized it.
It was I. My wedding dress. My grin, curls, eyes. Holding hands with Elias in golden sunshine and beautiful wildflowers. Fantasy realized in spray paint and brushstrokes.
Writing in a familiar, jumbled script was in the corner:
Always yours, Elias.
It was a familiar voice.
“Surprise?”
He was there when I turned.
Elias emerged from a wooden easel, apprehensive and smiling, paint smudged on his palms.
“What…what is this?” Shocked, I whispered.
“My wedding gift to you,” he whispered. “I wanted to make you something forever. Something real. Your family would never accept me, but I wanted the world to know how much I love you.”
The police made an arrest. That was what? I requested.
Winced. “Ok, so… Maybe I hired two actor friends. I wanted a memorable day. Even dramatic. Like an emotional art installation.”
‘You staged your arrest?’ My angry father snapped. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m passionate,” Elias remarked, eyeing me. I was scared. I didn’t want to warn your father again. Was trying to prove something.”
No one spoke for a while. Incredulous, my mother put her palm to her lips. Father had a stormy face.
And I?
I cried. Laughing. All-out collapse into Elias’s arms.
“You idiot,” I cried into his shirt. I thought you left. I thought…
“I’d never leave you,” he said. “Not even paint.”
Late and scandalous, we returned to the venue.
Elias described everything to our surprised guests. People weren’t sure whether to laugh or yell, but the complete narrative changed the dynamic.
My father reluctantly stood and raised a glass.
“You’ve got guts, Elias,” he added. I still consider you reckless. I think love is too.”
I stared at my new spouse in a hotel suite with chocolate-covered strawberries and bare feet later that night.
“I have something for you, too.”
Raised eyebrow. “Oh?”
“When we get home,” I grinned, “I want you to pack up your studio.”
“June, if this is about me messing—”
“No, no,” I said. Got you a new one. A actual place. Naturally lit. Plus a gallery downstairs.”
His eyes grew. “Did you buy me an art studio?”
I want the world to see your paintings. To make it happen, you need your own space.”
Not speaking for a moment. He said, “You’re the real masterpiece, June.”
We celebrated anarchy, art, and love no canvas could hold.
My wedding day didn’t go as planned, but it was better than expected.