Praying the doors I’m about to open don't have alarms, I press down on the handle, looking behind me before I push it open. My body is not currently listening to my brain. She nods and walks to the kitchen, and as she leaves, I move toward the exit door. Can you please get me a glass and then I’m ready to do this. No, Tara, but I could do with some water. 'Sofia, keep it together,' I chant to myself. The wedding planners were called the next day, and that was it. They didn't stop to see if it was what we both wanted. Little does she know I’ve had cold feet since the day my and Thomas’s parents declared we should get married. My eyes go wide, and I fervently rock back on my heels. I open my eyes to Tara, now standing beside me. I close my eyes and take in some much-needed deep breaths to try and calm my pounding heartbeat. Looking to the left, I see double doors with a lit-up exit sign.

I look to the right, where two massive doors are, a flower arch in front of them. Tara is mumbling behind me, my train in her hands.Įverything okay, Sofia? she asks.

As we near the bottom step, I stop for a moment to compose myself. My hands lift the hem of my dress, so I don’t trip over it, my palms sweaty. Ready?Īs we walk along the long hallway, then down the spiraling staircase, my heartbeat starts to echo in my ears. She presses her finger to her ear before saying, We’re on our way. Behind closed doors, he is the most narcissistic man I know, and that is saying something given the circles I run in. He may be handsome, but that’s as far as it goes. If only she knew how stuffy he was-just like both our fathers. Why do you sound like you’re walking to your doom? If I were getting married to an Adonis like Thomas, I'd practically be running down the aisle. Wow, Sofia, you are gorgeous on any given day, but today you are breathtaking.

Knock, knock, my wedding planner, Tara, announces herself as she walks in, her diary permanently attached to her hands. Growing up, it was always the nannies and house staff that looked after me. At events, in front of company, in front of paparazzi, you would think she was the most loving and caring mother, but as soon as the cameras are gone, as soon as company has left, she becomes her unloving self. Today is happening, and in time, you will learn to love your husband. I turn around to face her, my lips tight. A single tear falls to my mother’s cheek. The one thing I do like is the half updo of my hair, secured with a million bobby pins, but with some strands of hair pulled out at my temple and curled, perfectly framing my face. Some snobby, fancy makeup artist to the stars has spray-painted my face on so thick with expensive products, I hardly look like myself. A lace ball gown with a high halter neck and layered skirt in a romantic princess bride cut. I’m standing here on what should be the happiest day of my life, but instead I’m miserable and hopeless, even while draped in a Vera Wang original. Instead, I stare at the person reflected back at me while looking like a replica of myself-it couldn’t be further from who I feel like inside. Looking in the mirror before me, I try to pull up a smile, but I can’t. My mother straightens my crown, her fingers clipping in my long veil just underneath my family’s treasured rubies.

Runaway princess