I clutched my burning cheek, staring in shock at the man in front of me—dressed in his pristine groom’s suit, the embodiment of elegance, yet utterly heartless.
“Did you just slap me? You actually slapped me for another woman?”
Tears blurred my vision. My heart, once so full of love for him, shattered in an instant.
Julian pointed a finger at me, his voice filled with rage. “Clara Whitmore, you’re absolutely vile! How dare you speak about Vivi like that?
“She’s not feeling well, so she called me. What’s wrong with that? I am her best friend. Of course, I should care about her!
“If you’re going to be this petty, then forget about this wedding.”
With that, Julian turned and walked away without looking back.
On the giant screen behind me, our pre-recorded love story continued to play.
How laughable.
My parents rushed to my side, gently helping me up. “My dear…”
Looking at their aging faces and the strands of grey in their hair, I felt a deep, aching guilt.
They had never approved of my relationship with Julian. I had knelt, begged, and even gone on a hunger strike to force their blessing. In the end, they relented.
Because of my stubbornness, the once confident and proud couple had been reduced to slumping shoulders and lowered heads.
I hated that it took me this long to wake up. Because of me, they had to humble themselves before Julian’s parents, unable to lift their heads with dignity.
“Mom, Dad, the wedding is off. I’m not marrying him.”
“What?”
