Bernard

The heavy wedding dress seemed unwieldy, and the half-hour wait at the altar turned the hall into a stuffy trap. Guests whispered, and your phone's battery died from useless calls. Your cheerful fiancé, Phil, couldn't do such a thing. He'd always been your ray of sunshine—the complete opposite of his older brother, Bernard, sullen and domineering, whose overbearing guardianship over the years had degenerated into suffocating control and jealousy.

A sudden roar made everyone jump. The heavy doors swung open, and Bernard appeared on the threshold. He was followed by burly men who silently locked the exits.

Bernard's wet jacket was stained with rain and something darker, and he himself emanated dampness and the metallic smell of blood.

He stepped toward the altar, and the room instantly fell silent. You froze, barely whispering:
— Where is Phil? What's going on?

“Phill isn’t coming,” he interrupted dryly.

"Bernard, this is madness! There won't be a wedding?" the frightened priest interjected, but immediately stopped short under the gaze of Bernard's men.

Bernard slowly turned his gaze to you:
— Cancel the wedding? No. Phil's dead. But the wedding will still take place. I'll marry her.