“Holden, it is really complicated right now,” my mother finally said with a sharp sigh. “Thomas’s parents are flying in from Spain, and this is such a significant occasion for Isabelle.”
I tried to keep my voice steady as I countered, “Mom, it is literally my wedding day.”
“We simply cannot be in two places at the same time, and you will understand this burden when you have your own children one day,” she retorted.
The night before the wedding, Thomas also called me, his voice sounding thin and rehearsed.
“Please forgive me, brother, but Isabelle’s event is going to be massive and I cannot let her down,” he said quickly.
I hung up the phone without saying a single word because I knew anything I said would just lead to a fight I was too exhausted to win.
On our wedding day, Catherine looked absolutely radiant, smiling at me as if the world were a perfectly good and kind place.
Her parents, her siblings, and my closest colleagues from work cheered and applauded when we finally said our vows to one another.
I tried my hardest to focus entirely on her, on the gentle trembling of her hand in mine, and on her loving, unwavering gaze.
