Chapter 2

Clifton swiped the message away. Then, as if nothing had happened, he said evenly, "Jenna just likes to joke around. Stop reading into every little thing she does."

I dumped the pasta into the trash.

Clifton's expression darkened. "Heidi, are you going to sulk at me over food now?"

I didn't answer, but the doorbell rang just then.

The wedding planner, Claire Pearson, came in carrying two boxes of invitations.

"Ms. Shaw, the magnolia invitations you painted have arrived. My boss said the finished product is absolutely beautiful," she said with a sweet smile.

I crouched down to open the boxes. But when my fingers touched the paper, I paused—half of the invitations were missing.

Every single one had a small magnolia branch I had painted at the seal, the petals pressed over a faint, subtle pattern. I'd spent over two months working late into the night to finish them.

I looked up at Clifton. "Where's the rest of the invitations?"

He loosened his cufflinks and said matter-of-factly, "Jenna liked them, so I gave half of them to her to write the names of her friends from the support group. You know, just to spread a little cheer."

"But these are my wedding invitations."

He frowned. "You don't have that many friends anyway, so the remaining invitations should be enough. If not, just send them the digital version—it's all the same."

Jenna peeked in from the doorway, clutching a few already-written invitations.

"Heidi, don't blame Clifton. I was just so envious. After all, I might never get the chance to send out wedding invitations in my life," she said timidly.

Clifton took the invitations from her hand and said gently, "Don't mind her. Just keep writing yours. She's quick to get angry, but she'll calm down soon enough."

Claire froze in place, unsure whether to smile or keep a straight face.

I stacked the remaining invitations neatly and asked her, "The hotel rehearsal is this afternoon, right?"

She quickly nodded. "Yes, the red carpet and the ceremony stage are all set up. Mr. Cooper said there's one more segment that needs to be confirmed."

…

In the afternoon, Clifton drove Jenna to pick up Mom and Dad, while I took a cab to the hotel alone. It wasn't until I arrived at the hotel that I found out what the segment was.

The ballroom was filled with white roses. The officiant, David Boyer, stood there holding the program sheet, looking at me with hesitation.

"Ms. Heidi, Mr. Cooper says he'd like to walk the aisle with Ms. Jenna first. Then, you'd enter after that. We need your confirmation on this arrangement."

I looked at Clifton, and he explained calmly, "Jenna's health is fragile. She gets short of breath if she's on her feet too long. I'll wheel her down the aisle first, just so she can feel what it's like to be a bride."

"What about me, then?"

Clifton lifted his gaze. "You coming out afterward doesn't clash with that. She only has this one chance, while you still have many years ahead of you."

Beside him, Claire said quietly, "But Mr. Cooper, the processional is usually the bride escorted by her father. If you and Ms. Jenna go first, it might look like…"

Mom cut her off, "Like what? Jenna had it rough her whole life, so what's the harm in letting her use Heidi's wedding to fulfill a dream?"

Dad nodded too. "Heidi, don't be so petty. It's not like Jenna is trying to steal your thunder."

Jenna lowered her eyes, her rims reddening slightly. "Clifton, maybe we should just forget it. I'm afraid the guests might get the wrong idea."

Clifton smoothed out the hem of her dress for her. "They won't. If anyone gets the wrong idea, I'll explain to them. You just focus on looking beautiful."

I stood in a corner where the light couldn't reach me and suddenly didn't feel like fighting anymore. Anything I fought for would just be taken away by them the very next moment anyway.

David handed the program sheet to me. "Ms. Heidi, do you still want to sign off on this?"

I took the pen but didn't sign. Instead, I simply folded the program sheet and tucked it into my bag.

…

That night, Clifton went to the second bedroom.

Jenna was a light sleeper, and recently, she had moved into our marital home under the pretext of being nervous before the wedding.

Through the door, I could hear Clifton reading her a bedtime story.

"Don't be afraid. I'll be right by your side on the day of the wedding," he said gently.

In the living room, I cancelled the pair of honeymoon tickets to Hospool Island and bought myself one train ticket to Mannorworth departing in seven days.

The moment the booking confirmation text popped up on my phone, Jenna's soft laughter drifted out of the second bedroom.

I turned on the shredder and, one by one, fed the remaining half box of invitations into it.

Clifton pushed the door open. When he saw the shreds of paper all over the floor, his face instantly went cold.

"Heidi, have you lost your mind?"

I pushed the last invitation into the shredder and looked at him calmly.

He was about to speak when his phone lit up again.

Jenna had sent a photo. In it, she had written the words "Clifton's Bride" on the back of the welcome photo and drawn a red heart next to it.