He Called Off the Wedding When They Humiliated His Parents

We'd been together five years.

I thought Wallis Fox, at the very least, understood how much my parents meant to me.

My father was never good with words.

In his younger days he hauled steel bars on construction sites until his fingers got crushed out of shape, and even then all he did was smile and say it didn't hurt.

My mother went down to the market before dawn on winter mornings to unload cargo so she could keep me in school, and the cracks the cold split into her hands still ached every time it rained.

They swallowed the hardest years without a word.

Only on the day my acceptance letter came did they say quietly,

"Carter, from now on you stand tall as a man."

"Your mom and I aren't much, but we'll never let you be looked down on."

And yet today.

They stood awkwardly in the middle of a hall full of laughing guests.

Two red stamps on their faces. Grade-A Pork, Inspected.

Humiliated so badly they couldn't even lift their heads.

And still carefully making excuses for Wallis Fox.

But Wallis couldn't see any of that.

All she could see was Rupert Weiss with his head bowed.

So every fault became mine, the immature one who didn't know better.

I drew in a breath and walked over to my parents.

"Dad. Mom."

"Let me take you to wash it off."

My mother panicked at once.

"The tea ceremony's about to start. How can we leave now?"

She pressed down hard on my hand, dropping her voice.

"Carter, everyone here today is Fox family."

"Don't give them something to laugh at."

My throat tightened.

They'd already been made into a joke.

And they were still worried about me being laughed at.

Then Rupert Weiss spoke up, low and soft,

"Why don't I... touch up their makeup for your parents right now?"

My father actually nodded on reflex.

"All right, all right."

Rupert picked up the powder puff and stepped up to him.

But after two light pats his hand jerked to the side, and the puff jammed straight into the corner of my father's eye.

The eye swelled red in an instant, and still he didn't flinch away.

He only murmured, "It's fine, it's fine."

I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed Rupert Weiss by the wrist.

"Enough."

Rupert frowned, but his voice stayed just as soft.

"Carter, are you really going to raise your hand at your own wedding?"

The next second Wallis Fox stepped in front of him, her voice going hard.

"Carter Matthews."

"Don't push this too far."

"Rupert's already trying to fix it. What more do you want?"

I watched her shield him, and all at once she felt like a stranger.

Five years ago, the first time Wallis Fox came to my home.

My father was so nervous he could barely get a sentence out.

Pouring wine at the table, he spilled a little on the cuff of her sleeve.

She stood up right away and steadied him, smiling.

"It was me, I didn't hold it steady."

"Don't be nervous. We're all family now."

That night my mother pulled me aside and whispered,

"That Wallis, she's really been raised well."

I'd thought so too.

Thought she truly respected me, truly respected my family.

But it turned out respect was something that could run dry, too.

Or rather.

The moment she wanted to shield someone else.

My parents' dignity counted for nothing.

The wedding coordinator hurried over.

"Miss Fox, Mr. Matthews, we're about to begin the tea ceremony."

"The elders are all seated."

Wallis Fox finally looked at me, lowering her voice.

"Carter, stop this."

"Get up on the stage first."

I didn't move.

I only turned my head toward the head table a little way off.

The Fox elders sat under the lights, dressed to the nines.

Every one of them poised and dignified.

While my parents stood in the corner, red stamps on their faces, tense and out of place from head to foot.