Just before I walked down the aisle, my father noticed the way my hands trembled. He placed his warm, steady hand over mine, his eyes searching my face.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you don’t have to do this.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. I had spent the past week forcing myself to smile, pretending everything was fine, pretending I hadn’t found out that the man waiting for me at the altar had betrayed me. My mother had convinced me that calling off the wedding would bring shame upon our family, that too much had been invested to walk away.

But as my father looked at me with concern, I realized—he knew. He knew something was wrong.

“Dad, I—” My voice broke, my throat tight with emotion.

His grip on my hands tightened. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I will stand by you.”

A lump formed in my throat, and for the first time in days, I felt something other than fear—I felt relief.

Tears welled in my eyes. “I can’t marry him, Dad. He cheated on me. I found out a week ago.”

His face darkened with anger, but he kept his voice steady. “Then you won’t.”

I glanced around the room, the floral arrangements, the perfectly aligned chairs, the expectant guests waiting outside. The weight of my mother’s expectations pressed on me, but then I looked back at my father—strong, unwavering.

“What do I do?” I whispered.

“You walk out of here with your head high,” he said. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation today. You only owe yourself happiness.”

A deep breath shuddered through me. “Mom’s going to be furious.”

“Let her be,” he said firmly. “She’ll get over it. You won’t get over a life built on lies.”

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, taking in the beautiful gown, the perfectly done hair, the carefully applied makeup. But none of it could mask the hollowness inside me.

I nodded, wiped my tears, and took my father’s arm. Together, we walked in the opposite direction of the altar, out a side door. The moment the fresh air hit my face, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for days.

A murmur rippled through the guests as they noticed my absence. I heard my mother’s frantic voice, my fiancé’s confused calls. But I didn’t look back.

I stepped into my father’s car, and as we drove away from the venue, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Freedom.