Evangeline
"...you may now kiss the bride." The priest's weathered face contorts into something resembling a smile, but it's mixed with a hint of some other emotion. Disgust? Pity? Whatever. This isn't my wedding.
Mariam's dress is made of layers of bunched white tulle, studded with dozens of sparkling silver gems. They glitter in the light as she and Dad, with clasped hands, share a kiss. Short and sweet. Just how I like it.
Majority-no, all of the guests assembled here are from Mariam's side of the family. Dad told me all our living relatives passed long before I was born. It's probably bullshit, but even if those relatives knew if I existed, they never sought to find me, or get to know me. No skin off my back.
The after-party is a blur. I snack on hors d'oeuvres that Max brings me, accompany Asher to talk to their cousins, aunts and uncles, who pinch his cheeks and coo over how big he's grown, ad that he's not the baby of the family anymore. They're not too bad. Quite decent, actually.
Then I dance my heart out with Chris on the dance floor till I stagger over to one of the tables, panting for breath. Strands of hair have come loose from the elaborate chignon Asher did for me, so I pull the shiny pins out of my hair and shake it loose. Much better.
Across the venue, I spot Lucas talking to one of the cousins, which reminds me that we haven't spoken the whole day. We meet eyes. Sea green and pale grey. I grin and wave,but his reaction is totally unexpected.
Instead of smiling back and waving like he would've usually done, he simply turns away, mouth thinning.
My blood runs cold. Did I do something to upset him? Or is his attitude toward me changing because we are now officially stepsiblings?
Stepsiblings.
For some reason, the mere thought causes my heart to throb. Why?
-
Several hours later, we all reach home. It's a little strange, having our parents in the house.
Not to say that I don't appreciate their presence. I do. Although my father...not so much. He may be the bane of my existence, but he is still my father, one of my life-givers. That, I am grateful for.
As a daughter, I also craved fatherly love, with the absence of a maternal figure in my life. Who wouldn't?
So, for the sake of my relationship, I try my best to feel happy for the man I call 'Dad'.
"Hi, Dad."
He shoots me a scathing glare. "What?"
"I...just wanted to congratulate you...?" I didn't mean to phrase it as a question, but it seems to irritate him more.
He grunts in response, and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously akin to 'stupid lying bitch' under his breath.
I try one more time. "C-can I get you anything? Water perhaps?"
He explodes. Boom.
