Chapter 3: The Last Thread of Love

“Wipe your tears. Don’t you want the pictures to turn out nice?”

After a moment, his end of the line finally quieted.

When Hollis spoke to me again, the patience in his voice was gone, replaced by sharp irritation.

“Enough of this. Apologize in the group.”

“The wedding is about to start. I don’t have time to manage your feelings today, so stop making a scene.”

As if he’d just remembered what I’d said, he let out a short, harsh laugh.

“Besides, you don't have the guts to actually call it off, do you?”

We’d been together for ten years.

He didn’t believe I would leave.

I hung up, shifted in my seat, and rolled down the window.

The wind rushed in, destroying the hair and makeup I’d spent three hours on.

The driver had heard everything. He looked like he’d wanted to say something several times, but now he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Honestly, how does a man like that even get married?”

“When I got married,” he added, “all I wanted was to carry my wife over the threshold myself.”

I stared out the window, saying nothing.

Had Hollis ever carried me?

Yes.

On his back, to be exact.

That winter, a brutal blizzard hit New England, and the university shut down.

I had a fever of 104 degrees. My roommate was frantically pressing cold compresses to my forehead, on the verge of tears.

Hollis was the one who burst into the women’s dorm. He blew past the resident advisor trying to stop him and lifted me straight from the bed onto his back.

He carried me three miles through knee-deep snow to get me to the campus clinic.

I was barely conscious. All I remember is that he was shaking the whole time and slipped more than once.

But I was warm.

He had taken off his only heavy down jacket and wrapped it around me.

Later, when I woke up in the infirmary, I found out he’d ended up in the ER, too, treated for frostbite and exhaustion.

I had held on to that memory for years.

Back then, I truly believed he loved me.

The driver asked, “So how did he turn into… this?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know.”

Maybe it started the day he found out Gianna was coming back.

He’d dropped and shattered the matching mugs we’d made together in a pottery class.

Once, during a downpour, he forgot he was supposed to meet me at a dessert shop and instead took his guards to the airport to pick up Gianna. He’d said the daughter of an allied family required a personal welcome from him.

The day I had surgery on my hand, he went to an amusement park with Gianna. She’d said she was just back and wasn’t used to having bodyguards around all the time. Only Hollis made her feel relaxed.

Gianna always said she would never get married.

It was as if Hollis had finally found the perfect excuse to make his favoritism blatant.

After that, things like this happened more and more.

After I left the group chat, the only thing Hollis sent me was a single question mark.

Then, silence.

To him, this was just another one of my moods.

Sooner or later, I’d come back. I’d give in.

But this time, I truly couldn’t go on.

When I got back to the hotel, the front desk staff gave me several long looks.

I hauled the heavy skirt of the dress back to my room, wiped off my makeup, and stepped out of the gown.

Then I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Even now, it didn’t feel real.

Last night, in this very bed, I’d been so excited I could barely sleep.

When I opened my phone, Gianna had just posted on her private account.

[So no one can say I crossed a line, I’m posting a video. Today was really just about experiencing a wedding. Hollis and I didn’t do anything we shouldn’t have.]

The video was a recording of their entrance.

I tapped it open anyway.

Wearing a wedding dress, Gianna walked slowly toward Hollis, flanked by armed guards and watched by all the guests.

In the front row sat the elders and heads of both families.

The woman who stood beside Hollis would become the publicly acknowledged wife of the future head of the family.

The two of them stood before the officiant and recited the vows.

Until death do them part.

Then they exchanged rings and clasped hands.

The black signet ring Hollis was supposed to place on my finger in front of every witness was now on Gianna’s ring finger.

That ring signified the protection of the Lombardi family. It also meant she could appear in core family settings as the heir’s wife.

Hollis knew exactly what it meant, yet he still let Gianna “experience” that, too.

I watched, and then I laughed.

They had done everything but the final line: “You may now kiss the bride.”