Ruining Our Second Wedding
Language: en
Mona walked out on our wedding. She did it to run to her ex-boyfriend—the same man who had abandoned her five years ago when she was on the verge of being permanently paralyzed. A collective gasp rippled through the chapel, the whispers rising like dry leaves. I gripped her wrist, fighting to keep my expression from crumbling in front of our guests. "Please," I whispered, my voice thick with a desperation I hated. "Not now. Don't leave." Her eyes flickered with a brief, agonizing conflict. Then, finger by finger, she pried my hand off her wrist. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Wright. I…