Marry me
I think the officiant decided to ignore that.
"Do you, Isabelle Kimberly Greene, take, Ivan Trevelyan, as your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, fit or fat, for the rest of your life?"
I hesitated, swallowing. Did I really want to do this? I mean, I had no other option. No marriage, no job. I felt the weight of stares from different angles on me particularly from behind me -where the bridesmaids were- and in front of me -where Mr. Asshole stood- I looked up to meet his gaze. His grey eyes were fixed solely on me, unmoving. His stare was daring. Daring me to say something stupid. Daring me to ruin everything.
Bab Populer