The priest asked, "Do you, [Name], solemnly take Asher Williams as your lawfully wedded husband?" My heart raced as I nervously bit my lip, stealing a glance at my father, whose expression remained stoic, while my stepmother glared daggers at me.
Despite my unwillingness, I couldn't deny the undeniable appeal of Asher's striking appearance – his captivating eyes, full lips, towering height, and well-defined abs left me momentarily distracted. In my conflicted thoughts, I heard him reply, "Yes."
The priest then turned to Cheryl, asking if she took me as her husband. I snapped back to reality, torn between hoping for a cancellation and secretly hoping for acceptance. Her response, "Yes," echoed through the room.
The priest's smile signaled the next ritual, but Asher hesitated. "No," he said, causing a low chuckle from my stepmother.
"Why?" I wondered, bewildered. An elderly woman rushed to the altar, whispering in Asher's ear. His gaze intensified, and I began to feel impatient, humiliated.
In a desperate attempt to escape the awkwardness, I impulsively kissed him, only to be forcefully pushed away, sending me crashing to the floor in my voluminous wedding dress. The pain was minimal, but the embarrassment was overwhelming.
I wanted to confront him, but the mocking grins of the guests held me back. Grateful for the intimate gathering, I lay there, pretending to faint, longing for the earth to swallow me whole.
As the ceremony continued, I struggled to contain my tears, my heart heavy with a mixture of confusion and hurt.
