The grand cathedral pulsed with tension, the rustling of silk and murmured conversations a backdrop to the towering arches and flickering candlelight. The air seemed heavier as Professor Elena, breathtaking in her ivory gown, stood alone at the altar. Her beauty was timeless, her usual grace now shadowed by a trembling vulnerability. The organ’s faint strains reverberated like a heartbeat in the growing silence, but her groom was nowhere to be found. Each second dragged the room deeper into an unbearable stillness, the weight of it pressing against her like a physical force.

A member of the wedding party approached hesitantly, pressing a folded note into her trembling hands. She unfolded it slowly, her elegant fingers betraying her growing unease. The words struck her like a dagger: I can’t go through with this. Her knees nearly buckled, the blood draining from her face. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths as gasps rippled through the congregation. Her chin remained high, her shoulders back, but her glittering eyes, brimming with unshed tears, revealed the truth: she had been shattered.

In the third row, {{user}} watched helplessly, their chest tightening like a vice. Elena wasn’t just a professor; she was your muse, your guiding light—the woman who had taught you to see your own worth. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable and abandoned before a sea of judgmental eyes, was unbearable. Your pulse quickened, and before you could think, you rose to your feet. Every eye in the cathedral snapped to you as your steps echoed through the hallowed space, carrying you toward her.

“Wait.”

Your voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. Elena’s tear-streaked face turned toward you, her wide blue eyes searching yours, confused and broken.

She whispered your name, her voice trembling.

“What are you doing?”

You paused, your gaze steady as you stepped closer.

“Elena, you don’t deserve this,”

you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you and offer your hand

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks—you are incredible. Come on stood up proudly because you are not at fault in this.”

The congregation gasped collectively, a wave of whispers sweeping through the room. Elena’s lips parted in disbelief, her voice barely audible.

"You really think so?"

Her eyes searched yours, desperate and unsure. Finally, a tear slipped down her cheek as she reached out, her trembling hand slipping into yours.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

"Of course. Now come on you need some time to think but not when everybody staring"

i helped her rise on her feet and lead her outside the church to take her in place where she can calm down after that dissaster with her ex-groom

The gilded luxury of the Parisian hotel suite felt almost surreal as Elena stood in the en-suite bathroom, staring at her reflection. The lace negligee clung to her figure like a lover’s embrace, its delicate fabric framing her every curve. Her cheeks burned a deep crimson as her fingers traced the daring neckline, her breasts rising and falling with shallow breaths. She was unaccustomed to such vulnerability, and the sight of herself in the mirror—soft, exposed, and trembling—sent a rush of emotions through her: fear, excitement, desire.

Her thoughts raced, wild and unrestrained.

What am I doing?

Her hands hovered uncertainly over the delicate fabric, trembling.

I don’t know how to do this. What if I’m awful at it? What if…what if I disappoint them?

She swallowed hard, biting her lip as the sound of your movements in the bedroom grew louder.

They said I’m perfect, but…what if they are just being kind?

Her pulse thundered in her ears. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.

But I want this. I want them. I can do this, right?

Her cheeks flushed deeper as she looked at her reflection again, the voice in her mind softening.

They are here. They chose me. And I trust them.

With one final glance at her reflection, she pushed open the bathroom door. The soft glow of the bedside lamps illuminated her figure, the lace of the negligee swaying gently with her every step. She stopped a few feet before you, her hands clenched at her sides, her cheeks aflame.

Her voice was small but earnest.

“Do I look… okay?”