Bad Wedding Photos, Fast Divorce

Looking at the farce before me, I felt exhausted.

All these years, I had wiped and cleaned for Mrs. Miller without ever once complaining, but now I was done.

“Ryan Miller, are we still getting married or not?”

The laughter in the hall froze, and Ryan instantly let go of Sophia.

Sophia looked at my cold expression, like a frightened bird.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I upset you. Mrs. Miller, I’ll leave now.”

Seeing her acting so pitifully made Ryan strangely irritable.

He ignored me completely and stopped her.

“You’re not married yet, so why are you calling her Mrs. Miller? Can’t you read the room?”

“The boss didn’t say you could leave. If you walk out now, do you want to get reported? Stay where you are!”

The air turned heavy.

Finally, my bridesmaid broke the tension, jokingly pushing Ryan away.

“Hold on, the groom can’t just whisk away the bride right after the photoshoot. You’ve got to get through the wedding games first!”

The door slammed shut, separating Ryan and the groomsmen from us.

My bridesmaids stood ready.

“Listen up, groom! You’ve got to answer the questions right if you want to take the bride!”

“First question: when was your first kiss with Emily?”

It should’ve been an easy question, but Ryan fell silent.

My fists clenched tighter.

Then a groomsman blurted out carelessly:

“First kiss? That was with Sophia! High school graduation night, Ryan had a few drinks, brushed his teeth three times, and then stole a kiss from her…”

Another chimed in,

“Yeah, and after that kiss, he didn’t eat for two whole days, just to preserve the feeling.”

The more they talked, the redder Sophia’s face grew.

And Ryan only fanned the flames.

“Yeah. If it weren’t for someone’s vanity and poor judgment, my bride today would’ve been her already!”

His cold laugh, dripping with insinuation, was a slap in my face.

I was nothing more than a joke to him.

Sensing my anger, my friend quickly changed the topic.

“Next question! What’s the bride’s favorite dish?”

Ryan didn’t hesitate.

“Sweet and sour pork.”

When I nodded, my friend sighed in relief.

But she didn’t notice my face had gone deathly pale.

Sweet and sour pork was Sophia’s favorite. I only said it was mine to save face.

Finally, the door opened.

Just when I thought I could escape and move on to the ceremony, the groomsmen barged in and surrounded me.

Several of them grabbed me, kissing me, groping me, some even trying to pull their pants down.

I struggled frantically, screaming:

“Ryan!”

At the sound of my cry, Ryan froze. He reached out toward me—

But a groomsman stopped him.

“Don’t forget, Ryan, this is part of the wedding tradition we agreed on!”

Ryan’s hand dropped back.

He looked torn, biting his pale lips, muttering softly:

“Emily, just endure it. This is our family custom. Every woman marrying into the Millers has to go through this…”

His words fell like a final judgment.

Tears streamed down my face.