Chapter 2 Wedding
I stumbled as I tried to get away, only to bump straight into a woman.
“You’re Eleanor Ferguson, right? I’ve seen your photo before.
“I heard you were discharged last week. Looks like you’re doing better
now.”
I stared at her, and slowly, the memory came into focus.
Back in Africa, I had taken part in a local blood donation event.
The person who drew my blood that day was her.
“Oh, and I heard from Hugh that you’re getting married next week. Congratulations!”
The woman–my executioner–smiled sweetly, her tone warm.
However, there was not a trace of sincerity in her words.
I mumbled something about needing to get to the gallery and turned to leave, but just then, the door behind me opened and Hugh stepped out.
“Eleanor? What are you doing here?”
He studied me closely, and upon seeing my expression, assumed I hadn’t overheard anything.
“Have you picked your wedding dress yet?”
My heart dropped.
From the start, Hugh had taken full control of every detail of the wedding,
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Chapter 2 Wedding
never letting me get involved.
11
I used to think it was because he did not want me to get tired, but now I know–it was just so he could handpick everything for the woman he truly loved.
Even my wedding dress was not really mine to choose.
“I picked a fishtail design,” I answered quietly.
“The fishtail design doesn’t suit you. Try a strapless one instead.”
Of course..
I was tall, and the fishtail design best highlighted my figure. Gwendolyn Accetta, on the other hand, had a curvier build.
It was clear who the strapless dress was meant for.
This book had been added on your bookshelf.
поааса,
Too drained to argue, I simply nouaca.
Hugh’s friend, standing nearby, could not bear to watch any longer and looked at me with a hint of sympathy.
“Have you thought about postponing the wedding?”
All three of us turned to him–some eyes filled with anger, others with silent gratitude.
“I was just tryna say … Eleanor was just discharged, so a wedding right now might be too exhausting. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until she’s stronger and throw a grander celebration?”
Hugh shot him a disbelieving look, his voice tight with irritation.
“Christopher, we’ve been friends for years, and instead of offering your blessing, you’re trying to stop the wedding?”
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Chapter 2 Wedding
288 (Vouchers
Christopher Dubois opened his mouth to respond, but I cut in before he could.
“It’s fine. Thank you for the thought. But I’ve waited eight years for this wedding, so I don’t want to wait any longer.”
That was true. For eight long years, I had dreamed of marrying Hugh.
There were countless times when I was hanging by a thread, and thoughts of him were what kept me going.
I thought once I recovered, we would finally be together for good.
Yet, it turned out that was all just wishful thinking on my part.
Gwendolyn had somehow slipped to Hugh’s side without anyone noticing, and she did not shy away from touching him affectionately.
I turned away with a hea
see anymore.
This book had been added on your bookshelf.
“There’s something urgent I need to take care of. Goodbye.”
I was speeding down the road, but just a kilometer away from the airport, a truck slammed into me and sent my car flying off a bridge.
The pain was overwhelming, and just before I lost consciousness, I finally understood what Hugh had meant by, “I’ve already arranged everything.”
When I woke up, I was back in the ICU.
As expected, the wedding went on.
The familiar agony returned, and once again, I watched as my body began to rot from the inside out.
Hugh studied medicine, so he knew very well that even a minor wound could be fatal to someone with AIDS.
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Chapter 2 Wedding
Then, I heard a voice outside the ward, faint but unmistakably his.
“The payment has been wired to your account. You did well this time.”
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I stared blankly at the ceiling, numb. It took me a while to process what I had just heard.
For Gwendolyn, he was willing to gamble with my life again.
The ward door creaked open, and Hugh stepped in, settling into the chair beside me.
He did not notice I was awake as he scrolled through wedding photos on his phone, admiring them one by one.
He zoomed into every photo–Gwendolyn looked radiant with perfect makeup and a joyful smile, while I, pale and frail on the hospital bed, looked like nothing more than a living corpse.
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