So, when the heavy mahogany doors of the reception hall opened on my wedding day, and my parents walked in, flanked by Mia—who was wearing a floor-length, white silk dress that looked suspiciously like a bridal gown—I didn’t feel relief.
I knew this wasn’t a reconciliation. This was an ambush.
Chapter 2: The Cursed Toast
The reception was in full swing. The botanical garden’s glass conservatory looked magical under the twilight, filled with two hundred guests, mostly Julian’s family, our friends, and my colleagues. My parents and Mia had arrived just as dinner was being served, taking their assigned seats at the front with an air of profound martyrdom.
They hadn’t spoken to me. They hadn’t offered a hug or a congratulation. Mia had spent the entire evening posing for selfies, ensuring her white dress caught the light in every shot.
It was time for the speeches. The Best Man had given a funny, heartfelt toast. The Maid of Honor had made me cry happy tears.
Then, the MC, a jovial man in a bright blue tie, took the microphone. “And now, I believe the parents of the bride would like to say a few words!”
My stomach plummeted. I grabbed Julian’s hand under the table, squeezing it so hard my knuckles turned white. Julian rubbed his thumb across my skin, his posture completely relaxed, though his eyes never left my parents.
The clinking of glasses echoed through the conservatory. My mother stood up, smoothing her expensive designer dress. She didn’t look at me. She marched up to the podium, snatching the microphone from the MC with a curt nod. She tapped it twice, ensuring she had the room’s undivided attention. Her eyes swept over the guests, specifically targeting the tables where Julian’s wealthy extended family sat.
“Hello everyone,” my mother said, a sickly-sweet smirk playing on her lips. “Today is a big day.”
She paused for dramatic effect.
