Chapter 3 - The Garden of Whispers
Tristan was suffocating. His tuxedo felt too tight, the air felt too thin, and the endless stream of congratulations felt like a funeral dirge. He had exactly forty-five minutes before he was supposed to stand at the altar and promise his life to Sloane.
He slipped away from his groomsmen, seeking a moment of quiet near the rose garden.
That was when he heard the laughter. It was a bright, musical sound that belonged to a ghost from his past.
Tristan turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.
Maya.
She was standing near the fountain, looking more breathtaking than he had ever seen her. But it wasn't just her beauty that pinned him to the spot. It was the tall, commanding man standing intimately beside her, laughing at something she said. And playing at their feet were three children.
Tristan felt the earth tilt. He stumbled a step forward. "Maya?"
She turned. Her smile vanished, replaced by a cool, unreadable mask. "Tristan. Congratulations on your big day."
Tristan couldn't speak. He looked at the children. He looked at the two little boys who were the spitting image of him at that age, and the little girl with his mother’s exact chin. His heart slammed against his ribs.
"Maya... whose..." He choked on the words.
"Mine," she said simply.
Before Tristan could demand answers, Eleanor materialized from the hedges, her face tight with panic. "Tristan! The photographer needs you." She glared at Maya, her eyes practically shooting venom. "And you are making a spectacle."
"I'm just attending the wedding I was invited to, Eleanor," Maya replied smoothly.
May you like
Alexander stepped forward, his mere presence forcing Eleanor to take a step back. "We should take our seats, darling. We wouldn't want to miss the show."
Tristan was dragged away by his mother, his mind spiraling into absolute chaos.
