LOVE IN PARIS: Married To My Brother-in-law

"Sometimes we love people like how we love the stars".

"How?".

"We love them knowing we could never have them ".

 THE RANDOM STORIES.

The cathedral was a stunning sight, adorned with exquisite floral decorations that did nothing but added to it's grandeur.

 The air was charged with anticipation and excitement as family, friends, co-workers and also some other influential figures in the entertainment industry filled the pews all dressed in their finest attire to witness the exquisite yet low profile wedding of the famous rising actress Yvette Jasmin and her husband Manuel Lorenzo, the CEO of Silverscreen Horizons Entertainment .

 The aisle was lined with blush coloured petals, leading up to a magnificent arch adorned with white roses and twinkling lights.

 Soft melodious music played in the background adding to the ambiance.

 The guests chatted away , eagerly awaiting the auspicious moment but it seems fate had other plans in store , plans that would turn the joyous occasion into a whirlwind of chaos.

 As the wedding procession began, a hush fell over the expectant crowd and they gazed at the couple who stood before the altar hands in hands.

 Yvette, radiant in her flowy close fitted off the shoulder glamorous bridal gown could feel the weight of the veil and the momentous of the occasion. 

 She gaze around the crowds , from the Lorenzo's to the staffs, some influential actors and actresses who were invited, searching for at least a familiar face but then she scoffed and smiled in self mockery under her veil.

 Manuel, dashing in his customized tailored tuxedo gazed at her with a mixture of awe and eagerness, his grip tightening slightly around her hands as the priest began to speak.

"We are here today," The priest began, his tone rich and commanding. "To witness the union of Manuel and Yvette in holy matrimony".

"Before we proceed, if there is anyone here who knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace".

 The room fell into a hush of silence,so profound that it seems as though the breath of those present were stilled.

 Yvette and Manuel exchanged a fleeting nervous gaze both fully expecting nothing but the silent approval of their guests.

 Suddenly, the silence was shattered.

"I object!".

 A collective gasp rippled through the congregation and all heads turn in unison towards the intruder.

 Yvette could swore her heart skipped a beat, her hands instinctively tightening around the groom's.

 The groom turned to face the intruder, his brows furrowing as he recognized the man who had spoken.

 It was none other than his elder brother, elder stepbrother to be precise.

 Clenching his fist tightly, he managed to maintain his composure but was still confused. "Isn't Ezekiel supposed to be in Paris, how could he return without my knowing, that bastard?".

 Under the guests scrutinizing eyes, the sandy blonde haired handsome guy strode towards the aisle, the congregation quietly paving way for him in shock. He was decked in a black custom-made suit, his hands stuck to the pockets of his pants.

 Ezekiel strode towards the aisle , his face set with a grim determination.

 He stopped just a few feet from the altar, his gaze on the bride fixated and unwavering.

" I object to this union". He said again, much louder this time, his icy tone and domineering stance eliciting gasp from the congregation.

Manuel's grip on Yvette's hand faltered, confusion and anger flashing in his eyes.

Yvette heart lurched as she saw the cold, resolute expression of his eyes. Her mind was reeling as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

 Even still, she couldn't help but feel like the man was somewhat familiar yet distant.

 The priest who was caught off guard for a while regained his composure and asked. " On what grounds do you object, young man?".

 All through Ezekiel's gaze on Yvette never faltered. " This marriage cannot proceed as it would be unlawful. A married woman cannot marry again not when I , her husband is still hale and healthy".

 The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs and Yvette could feel the colors drained from her face, her mind reeling as she asked. " What is he talking about?".

 Manuel then stepped forward, his voice and expression taut. " What the hell are you blabbering about, you bastard !. Ezekiel, I'm warning you now, I don't have time for your drama today. Please come another day".

 Ezekiel's expression remained unchanged, as serious as ever and he scoffed. " Dear brother, I'm afraid this is no drama".

" Yvette is married to me , legally. We got married at her bachelorette's party in Paris few days ago".

 The entire church seems to freeze at that moment, their disbelief clearly written on their face. 

 The air was heavy with shock and confusion, fortunately enough for them there were no paparazzi or reporter's around or this would have become a hot and trending topic right away, turning the event in chaos.

 Yvette's mind was spinning, her breath coming in short, sharp gasp.

" This is shameful, she even had the audacity to come !".

"This is called crashing the wedding!".

"Indeed!".

"This is really shameful, got married to her bachelorette's party yet still had the guts to appear here!".

" I don't believe, how can we judge her based on his words only!".

"Yes, we need evidence!".

Whispers of speculation floated through the church, the atmosphere growing increasingly tense. Their earlier anticipation morphing into anxiety and confusion.

Madam Lorenzo who was sitting at the corner had her face ashen and she was engulfed with fury as she took in the sight before her.

 If this really continue, their reputation was going to go down the drain.

" Someone. Call the guards here!. Get this bastard out of here right now!".

" That's impossible". Manuel growled. "You're lying".

"Im not". Ezekiel shot back, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a small stack of paper.

He then held it up for everyone to see. "Here's the marriage certificate".

 He handed the documents to the priest who began to examine them, his brows furrowing deeply with each passing seconds.