They Caught Her Flower for Someone Else, So I Kept the Groom Fate Gave Me Chapter 08

They Caught Her Flower for Someone Else, So I Kept the Groom Fate Gave Me Chapter 08

On the other side of town, the Maypole Blessing was complete.

Calla was surrounded by her family, showered with attention and care.

Waiting for the groom’s carriage procession.

The other bride—the one with no family present—had already been quietly picked up by her groom.

No one had looked twice in that direction the entire time.

I sat in Parker Payne’s car. My white lace veil was folded neatly on my lap.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on my face for just a moment.

“Really leaving?”

I looked out the window.

The shadows of oak trees slid past the glass in fragments.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the veil on my knees.

“What do you think?”

My brother was right about one thing—I was stubborn as hell.

Either I swallowed every bit of humiliation and became what they wanted me to be. Or I burned it all down and started over.

Maybe that kind of stubbornness had cost me, but I wasn’t about to

—

change now. I’d decided to follow the Maypole Goddess’s guidance and marry the man who caught my ribbon. I wasn’t looking back.

Parker was quiet for a moment. The car slowed.

He glanced sideways at me, a note of cautious curiosity in his voice. “You’re not afraid of ending up like my first three wives?”

I turned to face him. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to them?”

The corner of his mouth curved slightly, but he didn’t answer.

The car picked up speed again.

The SUV rounded the last bend smoothly. Ahead, a house with white walls and a grey-tiled roof came into view.

Honeysuckle climbed the walls, white blossoms trembling in the breeze.

He didn’t answer. I didn’t ask again.

“We’re here.”

He got out and opened my door.

The yard was quiet.

“It’s just me here now,” he said. “I couldn’t give you the celebration you deserve. Sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. A car, a house, no in-laws—sounds like a good deal to me.”

I paused, bit my lip. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

—

He laughed. “Nothing to be sorry about. It’s the truth.”

He opened his palm toward me. I placed my hand in his and followed him into the yard.

Through the courtyard, into the main house.

The place was spotless. Windows gleamed. A wooden table held a pot of freshly brewed tea, steam still rising.

“Town tradition,” he said, letting go of my hand and gesturing toward the open space outside. “At dusk, we light paper lanterns around the bonfire and walk the Blessing Path together. That’s when the ceremony is complete.”

“It’s still early. Rest a while. I’ll clean up the yard.”

He turned and walked out.

I stood there and looked around.

The place was simple, but every detail showed care.

A clay vase of wildflowers on the windowsill. A stack of books neatly arranged on the corner of the table.

Even the old lantern hanging under the eaves had been wiped clean.

A man living alone, keeping his home like this—either he truly loved life, or he’d long since gotten used to having no one around to mess things up.

I walked over to a cabinet and stopped at a wooden picture frame.

Inside was an old photo, edges yellowed with age.

—

Two baby boys, maybe a year old. Identical faces, identical red bibs, grinning at the camera with tiny baby teeth.

I froze.

These twins were…