Humiliate My Parents, Lose Your Bride

At the wedding toast, the moment my parents lifted their cups, the flute burst.

Red wine mixed with cream and hot sauce exploded across them, head to foot.

My mother's new gown was soaked through in an instant, cream clinging to her hair.

My father instinctively reached to shield her, stepped on a shard of broken porcelain, and went down hard onto the floor.

Sophia Chase, Donald Weiss's secretary, was laughing so hard she could barely stand.

"Oh my! They look like two big clumsy water buffalo!"

"That was a little touch I designed just for your wedding. I never thought the trick flute would be so sensitive."

I was shaking with rage, but she only fanned the flames.

"No getting angry, bride! They say if you keep it cool and easy, the marriage goes smooth!"

Donald pressed my hand down too, frowning as he lowered his voice.

"Sophia was only being kind, warming up the crowd."

"Can't you see everyone's having a good laugh? Don't be ungrateful and small-minded."

My mother wiped the cream off her face, her eyes rimmed red, and still forced a smile at me.

"Sweetheart, we're fine."

"Getting married is a happy day. Don't fight over us."

In that moment, I looked at my parents standing there in ruins, still straining to keep up appearances for Donald.

And suddenly this whole wedding struck me as sickening, almost laughable.

They couldn't bear to see me embarrassed.

But Donald could.

If that was how it was.

Then I wasn't getting married.

...

My father braced himself against the floor to stand, the blood on his palm smearing across the red carpet.

Beside him, Sophia frowned at once.

"Sir, please don't get blood on the carpet."

Hearing that, my mother scrambled down and used her sleeve to scrub at that little smear of blood.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"We didn't mean to."

Sophia stood over my parents, her tone all put-upon.

"I did warn everyone the cup had a mechanism. Maybe the two of you were just too nervous and didn't catch it."

The murmuring around us dropped low all at once.

Someone laughed under their breath.

"So she did warn them."

"First time a couple of country hicks have been to the city, probably. No wonder they couldn't keep up."

My fingertips trembled with anger.

"Sophia Chase, you—"

Before I could finish, Donald had already stepped in front of her.

"Sophia already apologized."

"And your parents said it's fine."

He looked at me, brow furrowed, his voice pressed down low.

"There are this many people here today. Do you really have to make a scene until nobody can save face?"

I stared at him, dazed.

My father's hand was still bleeding.

My mother's shoulders were shaking from the cold.

And all he cared about was Sophia saving face.

My father, as if afraid I'd truly lose it, quickly tugged at my sleeve.

"Sweetheart, let it go."

"Your mom and I will go clean up. You go on with the wedding."

Sophia jumped in at once.

"The lounge is full of the Weiss family's relatives right now."

"Why don't the two of you go handle it in the storage room in the back?"

"There's a mop and rags over there."

"Be quick about it, though. Cream is hard to clean once it drips onto the floor."

My mother's face went white for a second, then she lowered her head and said, "Sorry."

"We'll wipe it all clean."

She was the one who'd been humiliated.

Yet she bowed her way through apology after apology, like she was the one in the wrong.

I followed them toward the back.

The storage room was cramped. As my mother stepped in, her hem caught on a metal shelf and tore open in a long gash.

She quickly pressed her hand over it.

"It's fine."

"The lights at the wedding are dim anyway. No one will notice."

She opened her bag. Inside was a new shawl, folded neatly.

"I was going to put it on when we went up on the stage."