The Wedding Where I Was The Witness, Not The Bride Chapter 02

The Wedding Where I Was The Witness, Not The Bride Chapter 02

I was about to leave when Marcus grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto the stage. “Apologize to Wren.”

Dad stood up, his voice righteous. “If you don’t apologize, don’t expect any of us at your wedding.”

Mom nodded. Marcus scoffed. “When the Ward family sees we’re not there, you’ll be the one who looks pathetic.”

I was the one who’d been wronged—and they were threatening me with my own wedding. They knew I’d been with Grayson for seven years. They knew how much I’d looked forward to this. I used to post in the family group chat for hours, talking to myself. They’d always reply with a single “…”

It wasn’t “read.”

It was “we don’t care.”

I didn’t even get a say in the wedding menu. They didn’t care about my wedding. They didn’t care about me. I was too tired to fight anymore. I looked at Wren. “I’m sorry.”

Blood dripped from my temple to the floor.

Mom said flatly, “Wren didn’t hear you.”

Grayson sighed. “Clementine, you really shouldn’t have said that. Just apologize properly—don’t throw a tantrum.”

I kept saying it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

On the hundredth time, my throat so dry it tasted like blood, Wren finally smiled. She upended a carton of yogurt over my head. “Sis, eat.”

It dripped down my collar, sticky and cold. Mom sighed as she wiped the blood from my forehead. “Both sides are dear to us—we just want to be fair.”

But I was already on my knees, struggling to breathe. Marcus’s voice was ice. “Wren’s still crying. Shouldn’t she apologize again?” He kicked me. “Stop faking. Get up.”

And then everything went black.

When I woke up in the hospital, Grayson was at my bedside. “Clementine, you’re awake. Are you feeling okay?”

He sounded almost guilty. “Wren was crying so hard—we all forgot you’re allergic to yogurt.”

My family had decided I was faking it. It wasn’t until a waiter shouted, “She’s covered in a rash!” that Grayson realized I couldn’t breathe.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were allergic?” Marcus walked in carrying fruit, already annoyed.

I’d told them. So many times.

When Wren was little and sick, my parents shipped me off to my grandmother. Grandma would chase them out of the house with a broom whenever they came to check on me, whenever they favored Wren. When I turned seven, she passed away. She held my hand and said, “No one’s going to protect you anymore, sweetheart. Be good.”

I’d been good for years. But no one in my family ever listened.

I looked at Grayson, my voice quiet. “Grayson Ward. Let’s call off the engagement.”

He blinked. “You’re upset? Haven’t I been humoring your sister for your sake?”

Marcus frowned. “You’re calling off a wedding over this? Who are you trying to scare?”

Grayson wiped the corner of my eye, his voice softening. “You’re just tired. After we’re married, I’ll take you abroad—just the two of us. No sister. Okay?”

I glanced at his phone—he was on a flight-booking page. My heart softened for a moment. Then Wren called, her voice tearful and sweet: “Grayson, where are you?”

His eyes, always cold and indifferent—I used to think that was just who he was. But now, looking at his phone, his gaze was tender, his voice warm: “Wren, be good. I’ll be right there.”

He turned to me, his face calm. “I’ll go now. Get some rest. The wedding’s been postponed two weeks—you’re not in any condition to attend anyway.”

Marcus nodded. “Wren can help with the rest. Just focus on recovering.”

Bitterness flooded my chest.

I called my former boss. “About that transfer to the Southeast branch—I’ve changed my mind. I’ll go.”

If this family would only ever see me as the villain, then I’d walk away—and be the lead in my own story.