Chapter 8 - The Cost of Pride
Emily stumbled backward down the stone steps, her lavish lace train dragging in the garden dirt. The realization of what she had done crashed over her like a tidal wave.
She had thrown out the wealthiest, most established member of the family to protect her fragile ego. She had insulted and excluded the very relatives who had loved her, all to stage a superficial photo shoot for people who didn't care about her.
Her fiancé, who had stood quietly by the limousine watching the entire disaster unfold, finally stepped forward. He looked at Emily’s mascara-streaked face, then at the disgusted expressions of our extended family.
"Emily," he said, his voice flat and weary. "The guests in Napa are already leaving. Half the tables are empty, and the caterers are shutting down the bar because you didn't meet the minimum guest quota."
"Get them back!" Emily sobbed hysterically, turning to him. "Call them! Tell them to wait!"
"I'm not calling anyone," he replied, shaking his head with bitter exhaustion. "You spent three months turning our wedding into a war zone. I'm going back to the hotel to pack my bags. We need to rethink this entire relationship."
He turned, got into the limousine, and slammed the door, leaving Emily standing alone on the gravel driveway in her tattered bridal gown.
May you like
Mom looked between Emily and the family on the terrace, completely torn, before slowly walking down the steps to lead her weeping younger daughter away.
Nobody on the terrace moved to stop them.
