The Groom Who Stayed

"Mr. Hart, Mrs. Hart—what's wrong with the helicopter?"

Leroy still thought they were just being cautious. "Don't worry. The pilot's ex-military. He's solid. Hannah and I will be totally safe."

Mom gripped my hand like she was scared I'd vanish. "Please, listen. I'd never hurt you. But that helicopter—it's not right."

Leroy caught the shift in their tone and backed off. "Okay then—we'll take the wedding car."

"No!" they shouted together. "You can't take the car either!"

I let out a bitter smile.

Here we go again.

"Why? You literally said it was fine. You told Hannah to get in," Leroy snapped.

Their eyes darkened. "The car and the helicopter—both are bad. We're not letting our daughter marry you. Just stop."

Then they started dragging me away.

I tore myself free, shaking. "Enough! How long are you gonna keep doing this to me? This is the fifth time!"

Years of pain exploded out of me.

Tears stung my eyes. "Why? Just tell me! I'm thirty-two. If you don't want me to get married, say it! Stop pushing me to the altar just to rip it all apart the second it starts."

Dad tried the gentle tone. "Hannah, I don't want this either. But you can't marry him."

"Why?"

"Because the car and the helicopter both have problems."

That same tired excuse. Again.

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I'm done buying your excuses. I'm getting married today. Period."

I headed for the car—then Mom suddenly grabbed a rock and slammed it into the hood.

"Mom! What are you doing?!"

My stomach dropped. They were way more unhinged than ever.

"If I wreck the car, let's see how you get married!" she yelled, smashing car after car like she'd snapped.

Dad, like he got swept up in her madness, grabbed his own rock and hurled it straight at the helicopter.

I shot them a sarcastic thumbs-up. "You two are unreal. Whatever—I'll walk to the hotel."

I grabbed Leroy's hand and powered forward.

"No! No! Even if it kills us, we'll stop this wedding!"

They came charging again.

I wrapped my arms around my belly. "Mom, Dad, I'm pregnant."

They stopped cold.

"For the baby's sake, I'm begging you. Let this happen. I can't raise my child alone—I won't let them grow up without a dad."

They froze for a second—faces flickering with guilt—then twisted back into something harder.

"Hannah, keep the baby if you want, but you can't marry him. You need to get divorced now."

"If you don't listen, we'll crash the wedding. I already messaged the relatives—they're on their way!"

I wiped my face and stood, shaking. My voice cracked as I screamed, "Why? Why are you doing this? Do you hate me that much?!"

"We're doing this to protect you! The wedding car proves it!" Mom lunged.

I shoved her. "Quit hiding behind that excuse! I'm done with the lies."

Dad saw her hit the ground and slapped me. "Ungrateful brat! You have no idea what your mother's done just to help you get married."

Leroy yanked him off me, already yelling.

From across the lawn, our relatives showed up, spotted my parents being held back, and jumped straight into the fight—no questions asked.

Leroy was pinned by four or five people, face swollen and bleeding. Still, he looked up. "Hannah, don't worry! I'm okay!"

How did we end up here?

I stepped in, sobbing, trying to stop them. I didn't want anyone getting hurt over me.

A kick slammed into my side. I hit the ground.

Blood mixed with tears. I couldn't move.

My gaze landed on the helicopter. Then the wrecked car.

And just like that—it all clicked.

I laughed through the pain as tears kept falling.

Now I knew why my parents always freaked out the second they saw the wedding car.