Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

Foreword:

All characters that appear in this story are above the age of 18. All three chapters of this story are already available on discord for my patrons. This story was written based on a request I selected from one of my patrons.

Ben looked at Evie lovingly as the two of them stood at the altar, staring into each other’s eyes. They’d been planning this day for nearly a year now. Evie had personally looked into everything to make sure it went as smoothly as possible, venue, flowers, catering, the playlist, even the exact shade of ivory on the programs. She’d lost sleep over spreadsheets and vendor emails, but right now, under the soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows, none of that mattered. She was here. He was here. That was enough for them.

Looking at his bride, Ben was still amazed he’d managed to bag such a baddie. He knew he was decently attractive, tall enough, kept himself in shape with weekend runs and the occasional gym session, made solid money in finance, but women like Evie were rare and he knew it. Jet-black hair falling straight and loose down her back, the way he liked it best. No elaborate updo for her; she’d told him months ago that she wanted to feel like herself today, not some Pinterest version of a bride. The strands framed her face, catching the light every time she tilted her head. Her veil was sheer, doing almost nothing to hide the childish joy sparkling in her dark eyes or the small, giddy smile that kept tugging at her lips. Her gown hugged her curves without apology, fitted bodice showing off the swell of her breasts, waist nipping in before flaring over hips that swayed just enough to make Ben’s throat go dry when she walked past him. Forever was only a little while away now.

Ben’s attention drifted back to the officiant. Evie had chosen her youngest aunt, Sister Maria. The nun was barely forty, still wore the traditional habit but with an elegant grace. Sister Maria had been there when the two of them had met years ago at a climate rally outside city hall; Evie had been handing out flyers, Maria had been holding a sign that read “God’s Earth, Not Ours to Wreck.” They’d clicked instantly over a shared coffee afterward and stayed close ever since. Having a female officiant, felt like a quiet statement, progressive without throwing tradition out the window entirely.

Sister Maria smiled gently at the couple, voice calm and clear as she reached the familiar line.

“If anyone present knows of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold—”

“I OBJECT!”

The words echoed through the church.

Sister Maria stopped mid-sentence. Heads turned. A low murmur rippled through the pews.

A man in a black shirt and black formal pants strode down the center aisle with deliberate swagger. Slicked-back hair, sharp jaw, gray eyes that scanned the room. He stopped a few paces from the altar, hands in his pockets, posture loose but commanding.

“I object to this union,” he said again, slower this time, letting each word land.

Ben knew him instantly. Evie had shown him pictures once, old ones she’d kept buried in a hidden folder on her phone, the kind she deleted and re-downloaded whenever guilt hit. Damian. The controlling ex she’d dated for three years before him. The one who could make her flinch just hearing his name mentioned in passing. The one she’d finally walked away from after too many nights crying in the bathroom, too many apologies that never stuck.

Ben felt Evie’s hand tighten in his. He looked over. Her face had gone pale beneath the veil, lips parted, breath shallow. The joy that had been there seconds ago was gone, replaced by fear and worry.

Ben stepped half in front of her instinctively. “What do you want, Damian? You can’t stop this marriage.”

Damian’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. He didn’t answer right away. Instead he lifted one hand and pointed directly at Ben.

“You must not speak until I tell you otherwise.”

The command hung in the air.

Ben opened his mouth to fire back, something sharp, something insulting but nothing came out. His throat worked, vocal cords straining, but it was like someone had hit mute on him. He tried again, harder. Still nothing. Panic flickered in his chest. He squeezed Evie’s hand tighter, trying to signal that he was okay, that this was just some fucked-up stunt, but the fear in her eyes said she wasn’t buying it.

“Ben?” Evie’s voice cracked. “What’s wrong? Say something.”