Chapter 4 - THE GROOM SAW EVERYTHINGThe sentence moved across the ballroom like wind through dry leaves.
Guests whispered.
A camera shutter clicked.
Then stopped.
Sophia’s face emptied.
“What did you say?”
“I said the wedding is canceled.”
She gave a short laugh.
It sounded more frightened than amused.
“You’re upset. We need five minutes alone.”
“This is not about needing five minutes.”
“You misunderstood what happened.”
“I watched you push your mother.”
“I told you I barely touched her.”
“You told her to wait near the kitchen because you were ashamed of her clothing.”
Sophia looked at Margaret.
“Tell him.”
Margaret flinched.
“Tell him I’m not cruel.”
The request was not an apology.
It was another command.
Margaret’s lips parted.
I stepped between them.
“Do not make her repair this for you.”
Sophia’s eyes widened.
“I am your bride.”
“You were going to be.”
A painful sound left her throat.
My mother closed her eyes.
My father placed one hand against my shoulder.
Not to restrain me.
To remind me I was not alone.
Sophia looked around at the guests.
“We spent over a million dollars on this wedding.”
“That does not make the vows safer to take.”
“You are humiliating me.”
I looked at Margaret.
“She knows what humiliation feels like.”
Sophia’s expression became cold.
“My mother has manipulated people my entire life.”
“How?”
“She arrives looking helpless. Everyone feels sorry for her. Then I become the monster.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I never asked anyone to feel sorry for me.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Sophia pointed toward the beige dress.
“You knew what kind of wedding this was.”
“I knew it was yours.”
“And you came wearing an old cardigan.”
“It was cold outside.”
“You could have asked me for help.”
Margaret looked at her daughter with something deeper than sadness.
“I did.”
Sophia went still.
Margaret opened her cloth handbag.
She removed an old phone.
“I called three times.”
She showed the screen.
Three outgoing calls to Sophia.
None longer than fourteen seconds.
“What happened during those calls?” I asked.
Margaret looked down.
“Sophia said she was busy.”
“I was planning a wedding.”
“She asked whether there was a dress code,” Margaret said.
My mother’s voice was quiet.
“What did Sophia tell you?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She said I should wear whatever I already owned.”
I looked at my bride.
Sophia shook her head.
“She’s twisting my words.”
“Then show me the messages.”
“I deleted them.”
“Why?”
“I clean my phone.”
May you like
Margaret placed her old phone on the table.
“I did not delete mine.”
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