Everyone wanted me to be there. It had been repeated to me so many times that I no longer knew if my name was engraved on the invitation or the tombstone. The priest, smiling, was waiting for me with that expression that one does not know if it is a blessing or a sentence.

But there was something. Everyone was betting on how much I would dare to refuse everything. The bride was not there, and yet everyone acted as if her presence was inevitable. The air was thick, like before a storm.

I clenched my fists. I felt an inhuman cold on the back of my neck, the same one I had felt three nights before, during a therapeutic yoga session. There, while holding a chest-opening posture, something invisible slipped in and whispered: "Don't make it to the altar."I thought it was my imagination, but now, standing in front of a corridor of stares, I knew that this had not been a dream.

The organ began to sound, and each note seemed like a drop of water falling on the tortured man's forehead. The candle lights danced. I saw shadows between the benches, but no one else seemed to notice. And then I saw her. She did not walk... she floated, with a veil that did not hide her face, but distorted it, as if it were made of smoke. Her eyes were cesspools, and in her hand, the bouquet was not of flowers: they were small bones, held together by black threads.

My knees collided. The murmur grew, but they were not human voices. The ceiling began to creak, as if something huge was walking over it. I knew that if I took a single step forward, the cold would trap me forever.

I took a breath. I remembered the calm of the room where I practiced yoga, the scent of incense, and the silence that prevailed there. That was the place I belonged, not here, not with her.

I turned around. The murmurs turned into a low roar, the organ squeaked like a wounded animal, and I felt cold fingers rubbing my back, trying to drag me back to the altar. I didn't turn around..

When I crossed the huge door, the world changed. A light embraced me, and the air became pure again. Outside, no one seemed to know that inside they were locked up, waiting for an act that would never be completed.

I went back to my yoga space, closed the door, and breathed. I had rejected something that was not a marriage, but a dark pact. And although I didn't know how much time I had left before they came looking for me... at least I knew what I had done right by not saying “yes”.