Chapter 3

She came holding a set of clothes, her eyes still red.

"Ma'am, I found you something clean to wear."

"Why don't you change into this first?"

She said it so considerately.

But when the clothes unfolded, the color drained from my mother's face.

It was a spare black skirt-suit from the hotel.

The fabric was stiff, the hem still creased.

At the chest, there was even a staff name tag that hadn't been unpinned.

Bianca acted as though she hadn't noticed, her voice soft.

"Just make do for now, ma'am."

"They'll mostly be filming the couple anyway."

"They won't get you too clearly."

My mother held that garment, her fingers slowly tightening around it.

The formal gown she'd worn today, she'd bought two months in advance.

To save money, she'd gone a whole month without buying anything new for the table.

Every evening she tried it on in front of the mirror.

Trying it on, she'd ask me,

"Sweetheart, is this too flashy for me?"

"Will I not look as respectable as your city in-laws?"

I'd laughed at her back then.

"Mom, you look the best."

She'd been so happy the corners of her eyes crinkled up.

But now, holding an old hotel uniform, she said quietly,

"It's fine."

"As long as I can wear it."

My eyes suddenly burned.

Miles, though, seemed to finally breathe easier.

"Bianca's so thoughtful."

He finished, then looked at me.

"And you, drop the cold face."

"Bianca was scared to tears by you just now."

"When we go out later, you apologize to her in front of everyone first."

Bianca pressed her lips together and said softly,

"Miles, don't push Ebony."

"She doesn't like me. I know that."

"I just wanted to help you two pull off the wedding, that's all."

Miles's voice went gentle at once.

"I know. Don't let it upset you."

Standing off to the side, I suddenly felt too tired even to sneer.

My mother lowered her head and said nothing.

But I saw her tears drop onto that black skirt-suit.

Quickly soaked up by the stiff fabric.

Not a single trace left behind.

A calm came over me all at once.

So from the very beginning, my parents had never been taken seriously at this wedding.

I took out my phone and sent the wedding planner a message.

"No need to wait for the program."

"During the wedding later, play the thing I gave you."

The reply came quickly,

"Are you sure?"

I looked at the back of Miles, head bent, coaxing Bianca.

Then I looked at my parents' eyes, rimmed red from holding it in.

Slowly I typed two words.

"I'm sure."

When I got back to the hall, Bianca was sitting in the bridal lounge.

Her eyes were red, a cup of warm water in her hands.

Miles stood in front of her, bending slightly, dabbing her tears away with a tissue.

"Bianca, stop crying."

"What happened today isn't your fault."

On the table beside them sat a first-aid kit.

My father still had shards of porcelain in his palm.

The blood on his knee hadn't stopped either.

Yet that first-aid kit had never once been carried over to him.

Bianca had only cried.

And Miles was aching for her as if she'd suffered some terrible wrong.

Standing not far off, I suddenly thought back to years ago.

The night of the company gala, I was burning with fever, waiting outside the hotel for Miles to come pick me up.

He'd said he would come once the meeting ended.

But I waited until the small hours, and all I got was a line from him,

"Bianca had too much to drink."

"She just started at the company. It's not safe for a young woman alone, so I'm taking her home first."

Back then I was feverish enough that I could barely stand.

Yet I still answered him,

"Okay. Stay safe."