Bad Wedding Photos, Fast Divorce

For the first time, I saw through this man completely.

“I’m not marrying you!” I screamed.

But before I could finish, a foul mouth sealed mine.

All my rejection and resistance turned into muffled sobs.

As they violated me, they laughed:

“Spank the bride’s ass, and she won’t fall sick for three years!”

“Touch the bride’s cleavage, and her career will soar high!”

My bridesmaids weren’t spared either—they were assaulted too.

All except Sophia.

It all ended when one groomsman merely touched Sophia’s hand, and Ryan snapped at him:

“Stop it, Nick! Don’t go too far!”

I was left broken, my dress torn to shreds, barely covering me.

Meanwhile, Sophia remained untouched, just sitting in Ryan’s arms with a few fake tears, trembling like a frightened flower.

To her, he spoke only in gentle comfort:

“Don’t be afraid. No one will ever lay a finger on you. When you get married, you won’t have to go through these old customs either. Don’t cry…”

Only after soothing Sophia for a long while did Ryan finally remember me.

But his words to me were awkward, forced.

“Emily, don’t be scared. I’m here. We don’t have to put up with this anymore.”

“We can skip this step and move on to the ceremony.”

He tried to hold my hand—

But I slapped it away.

He froze, unease filling his eyes, like something precious was slipping away.

Panicked, he chased after me.

I grabbed a blanket to cover myself, kicked open the doors—

And there it was: the wedding hall full of guests.

At the front sat Mrs. Miller. When she saw my disheveled state, her face darkened.

“With all this fuss, how can you be my daughter-in-law?”

I glared at the woman who had ordered me around daily, and spat back:

“I’m not marrying him!”

But before I could take another step, the giant screen in the hall lit up, projecting videos and pictures of the groomsmen’s assault on me.

Every shameful moment was blown up, exposed to all.

Guests whistled, some hollered crudely:

“Why not let us guests have a turn too?”

The jeers and Mrs. Miller’s scolding face sent my head spinning, ears ringing.

Ryan rushed in, yanking out the wires to black out the screen.

But it was too late—the damage was done.

He tried to comfort me, but a pitiful sob cut through the air:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything…”

Sophia stood trembling, clutching her sleeves.

And in an instant, Ryan’s blame turned to comfort.

“I know you didn’t mean to. You’re not that kind of person. Don’t cry, please?”

His voice brimmed with helpless tenderness.

Mrs. Miller quickly joined in:

“Sophia, you’re such a good girl. Even if this wasn’t an accident, I wouldn’t blame you.”

She sighed.

“I’ve always liked you. If I hadn’t become paralyzed, you and Ryan would have been together long ago. That other woman would never have had a place.”

Her words were clear as day—

She was calling me the mistress who stole someone else’s man!