Chapter 1332

Chapter 1332:

“No… this can’t be…” I shook my head, nails digging into my palms.

Jett’s gentle care over these past days, his worried glances, his cautious touches… How could any of it be a lie?

“Makenna?” Jett’s voice came through the door. “Do you need help? Are you done changing?”

Makenna’s POV:

“I’m ready.” I drew a breath that barely steadied me and lifted the hem of the wedding gown, stepping slowly from the fitting room like someone walking into a dream they weren’t sure they belonged in.

Jett was by the window, arms loosely crossed, the sun painting gold into his hair. When his gaze landed on me, something shifted. His shoulders straightened. His eyes widened—like he hadn’t expected to be struck dumb.

“You look… stunning.” His voice cracked on the word. He moved toward me in measured steps, almost reverently, and took my hand. “It’s like this dress was made just for you.”

I tried to smile. It came out stiff, a twitch more than a curve, and my fingers fumbled for the lace on the bodice as if it could anchor me.

There was a heat in Jett’s gaze—too intense, too sharp. It didn’t warm me. It made my skin crawl.

“Makenna, you’re pale.” His brows pinched, and he reached out to touch my forehead, his palm soft. “Are you still feeling sick?”

“No. I’m fine.” I stepped out of reach before he could feel the lie on my skin. “I’ll change.”

As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Jett behind me, his hand suspended awkwardly mid-air. Guilt pricked at my chest—but only for a second.

The memories came rushing in, uninvited and sharp.

Another man—his kiss had been wild and searing, and his fingers had threaded through my hair with a tenderness that felt like home. A touch Jett never had and never could mimic.

“Do you want to try on a few more?” His voice came through the door, light and carefully cheerful, like he already knew the answer and dreaded it.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” I slipped the dress off with urgency, as if it scorched my skin.

The ride back to the palace was swallowed in silence. I pressed myself against the window, as far from him as the carriage would allow.

Jett sat on the other side, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on the leather armrest—steady, controlled. Everything he always tried to be.

Outside, the city was alive—vendors shouting and children laughing. It all blurred past in streaks of color and movement.

Then something caught my attention.

A flash in the crowd.

Black hair. Green eyes. Him—the man in my vague memory. My heart lurched so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop!” I banged my palm against the window, breath caught in my throat.

Before the wheels even halted, I threw the door open and bolted into the street.

“Makenna! Where are you going?” Jett’s voice thundered behind me, but it was already too far away—just another sound swallowed by my racing heartbeat.

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