The spell broke, and just like that, she could see everything with fresh eyes. Peering down at her hands holding a bouquet of flowers, calla lilies and baby’s breath, jewels glistening upon her lace laden chest and her veil creating a soft white haze over the man in front of her. How wrong she’d been about him. How utterly absurd it felt to be stood before him like this, hundreds of eyes staring, waiting for her response. Finally the gut wrenching feeling in her stomach had become a siren loud enough not to ignore. Suddenly all those instances of swallowing down lies and smiling gratefully had come back up again, sitting on her tongue ready to be hurled at the one who would betray her. This was what he wanted, to capture her in a net made of silk, just like the spider he was. Heart hot and heavy, eyes wide and hands tight, making mincemeat of those flowers, she steps back, screaming, lungs full of noise and rage “No!” Throwing the strangled and flaking flowers to the ground at his feet, petals pushing up the dust. He looks up at her, anger boiling in his blood, the realisation that a love spell inflicted by the insincere of heart can never last. The witch had cheated him and protected the one she thought needed help the most. His foreskin, required for such a potion and spell casting as this, would never grow back, unlike the brides self respect.