A bride’s perspective towards a wedding she couldn’t own.
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“Ting! Ting! Ting!”
The church bell rang. A signal for the start of the mass.
Today is a very special day. Not for me. But for my groom.
I have just arrived.
Today is my wedding day.
I was being taken by my father to the altar. Inside the church,
I could see people staring at me. Happiness registered in every visitor’s face. Now, I could see my husband-to-be waiting for me patiently near the altar. Behind him were his father and some relatives. While on the opposite chair was my bestfriend, the one I truly love. He was staring at me in awe. I could see the gladness in his face. And that really hurt me. How could he be happy for me when I was going to marry another man? How could not I be hurt to see the one I love rejoicing for my misfortune?
It was good that my face was concealed by a slightly transparent veil. No one could see the loneliness in my face. All they could see was my fake smile.
I looked at my best friend for the second time secretly. Time seemed to cease upon me seeing him. But unfortunately, it did not stop.
Seconds later, I was in the altar. With the groom.
I was with him. But both my mind and brain were with my bestfriend.
I almost got lost of the time. It appeared like everything happening now was being fast-forwarded. I was just able to cope up again when the celebrant asked me with the “magic question.”
I could not think straight. I was still confused to answer. I looked behind me, and saw my father. I tried not to look my bestfriend. I feared that seeing him one last time would spoil my wedding, my father’s happiness. It was like I was forced to answer, “Yes, I do.”
Now, it was time for the priest to ask the groom. I prayed that he won’t answer. But without hesitation, he answered “Yes, I do” too.
Time was so fast…
And it was the right time for the groom to kiss me.
With my veil being lifted slowly, I felt some kind of nervous.
I know there was still pain in me. A pang of disappointment. Anger for myself. It felt like the only thing left for me was my father’s happiness.
When our lips met, I saw with a sideway glance my bestfriend turn and walk away, leaving me like an outdated toy, shards of glass that could not be mended anymore. Tears flowed through my cheeks. I wanted to fix myself and follow him. I didn’t care if I’d be a runaway bride. I just felt the need to see him. So I removed my veil and ran.
When I reached the outside of the church, I wiped my tears with the handkerchief I received from him years ago. It was a good thing I kept it in my camisole.
I just continued meandering in the vast space occupied by the town plaza, hoping that somewhere out there, I would see my bestfriend again. I never cared if people looked at me with disgust or shock. I just cared to see him again. To tell my bestfriend that I loved him.
But fate was cruel to me. I never laid eyes upon him again.
I just stayed at a restaurant, facing the flowing river. At the end of the day, I saw a hand offering me a familiar handkerchief. When I looked up, I saw him. My groom.
And for the second time, I was forced to accept him in my life.
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Read this to hear the best man’s perspective:
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