Chapter 2

"I was afraid I'd look too shabby and embarrass you."

One corner of the shawl was soaked through with wine.

Still, she kept dabbing at it, bit by bit, with a napkin.

When it wouldn't come clean, she folded the stained part inward.

My father pulled a red envelope out of his coat too.

The envelope was warped and soggy from the wine, its corners already going soft.

He kept his head down, wiping at it for a long time, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This is the cash gift from your mother and me."

"We wanted to hand it to our son-in-law with a little dignity."

"And now it's come to this."

He finished, then gave a sheepish little smile.

"Sweetheart, don't hold it against us."

The tears came crashing down all at once.

They'd spent so long preparing for this wedding.

Afraid they wouldn't be dressed well enough.

Afraid they'd fall short on etiquette.

Afraid I'd have to hang my head in the Weiss family.

But what Miles had given them was wine and cream all over their clothes, the guests' jeering laughter, a corner piled high with junk.

Then my phone buzzed.

A message from Miles.

"Come out once you've cleaned up."

"Bianca was only joking with your parents. Don't blow it out of proportion. It's a small thing."

I stared at that line and, all at once, I laughed.

So this was just something to be brushed aside.

So in his eyes, my parents' humiliation, the blood on my father's hand, the formal gown my mother had ruined — all of it was just a small thing to be lightly waved away.

I wiped my eyes and helped my parents sit down.

"Dad. Mom."

"Wait here for me a moment."

Then I turned and walked out of the storage room.

At the end of the hallway, the wedding planner was waiting for me anxiously.

"Ma'am, are we still going ahead with the program?"

I looked toward that glaring pool of light in the hall.

Miles stood at the end of the red carpet, head bent, coaxing Bianca.

I pulled my gaze back and spoke calmly.

"Go ahead."

The planner let out a breath of relief.

But then I went on:

"Just change one thing in the program."

"Skip the tea ceremony."

"From here, make it a called-off wedding instead."

When I came back to the storage room, my father was sitting beside a cardboard box, the cut on his knee still bleeding.

Yet the moment he saw me come in, his first instinct was to stand up.

"Sweetheart, are they rushing you out there?"

"Your mom and I will be ready in a second."

I pressed him back down.

"Don't move."

My mother looked up at me, her eyes red, and still she was smiling.

"Don't you worry."

"A wipe or two and I can still wear this gown."

She glanced down at the hem where the wine had bled through, then hurriedly hid the stained part behind her.

"When we go up, I'll just stand off to the side."

"The camera won't catch it."

My throat tightened.

Even now they were still worrying about how not to embarrass me.

Footsteps came suddenly from the doorway.

Miles stood outside, brows drawn as he took in the mess of the storage room.

"Still not ready?"

"The ceremony time is almost here."

"If it's really too much trouble for your parents, maybe they should just skip going up."

He paused, his tone as if he were being reasonable.

"Your mother, looking like that, won't come across well on camera anyway."

The smile froze on my mother's face.

In that instant, she instinctively looked down at her gown.

As if she'd finally realized just how wretched she looked right now.

My father quickly spoke up.

"Yes, yes, of course."

"We don't have to go up, that's fine."

"As long as your wedding goes off smoothly."

I looked at Miles, and all of a sudden this man in front of me felt like a complete stranger.

He used to say he'd treat my parents as his own, honor them like a devoted son.

But now that my parents were hurt and humiliated, all he cared about was that they wouldn't look good on camera.

Bianca showed up soon after.