WALK ME DOWN THE AISLE

* Chapter Twenty Two *

Out of my respect for seniors, I eagerly extended an invitation to him and offered him a bottle of wine that had remained unopened during my entire time living in California.

Scott's father registers the scent of the wine and remarks, "Your wine tastes delightful; it's undoubtedly expensive, am I right? But did you know this kind of wine can be effortlessly found in different stores?"

"Yes, I know that this wine can be found in various stores," I responded, my tone calm and measured. "It was a gift from my brother, who bought it from a store," I replied respectfully. Scott's father, ever the quick-witted person, then sarcastically remarked, "Ah, I see. So, it's safe to say that it's not some rare limited edition or a bottle exclusively reserved for illustrious restaurants, then?" With this statement, he subtly aimed his sarcasm not only at the wine but perhaps at Scott himself.

Comprehending the underlying meaning of his words, I chose to answer with honesty and transparency. "I cannot say for certain if it has those traits. Nevertheless, my brother did emphasize the wine's value when he gifted it to me."

Out of regard for his sentiment, I refrained from opening the bottle until now, "I hoped to share it with someone who holds great significance in my life, like my friends, family as well as my foes," I confessed, subtly showcasing my ability to effectively convey and steer even the most nuanced of conversations.

"Thank you for your effort and compliment, Miss," Scott's father calmly said, looking at me with a mixture of calmness and rage. "However, I want you to understand something. Just like this wine, there may be countless people like you who are deemed 'good.' Although they may briefly satisfy someone's company, they eventually get replaced when idleness sets in or patience wears thin. Unlike those mundane ones, which are ample and easily synonymous, there are only a few exceptional ones in the world, like my son."

He paused for a second and continued with his words, leading to a rather uncomfortable speech.

"He is one of a kind, irreplaceable. Just like when you unintentionally consume the last drop or thoughtlessly dispose of it, there is no next bottle to receive or reserve. You can't simply go out and buy another one like him. I hope you understand the sense of this comparison, Danni."

I didn't mean to cause any harm to Scott. My intentions were never to harm him or undermine his triumphs. Rather, I intended to seize our amazing story and display how grateful I am for his presence in my life.

"I apologize if my book disclosed any confidential information regarding your conflict with your son, but I assure you that everything I wrote was based on Scott's own words and emotions."

"But you never sought for permission, that's the problem." Scott's father exclaimed furiously.

"I feel Scott's story deserves to be shared with the world, sir. And what hurts even more than anything I have done is the fact that you refuse to acknowledge the truth that maybe you had forsaken him, or worse, he had become subservient to your fascinations." I retorted, unable to mask my indignation.

"How dare you?" He suddenly rose from his seat, and angrily nudged the wine glass, causing it to slip from his grip and shatter onto the floor.

When he left my house, a resolute promise cropped up in my mind: Never again will I allow anyone to demean and diminish a writer like me.

We are not mere wordsmiths; we have the power to perceive the truth and articulate undeniable facts.

We are not subservient beings, suitably put in as mere instruments in their theatrical endeavors. No, we hold our distinction and have our reputation to grow. At that moment, I made the conscious decision to enlighten Scott's father so he could take hold of the extent of what he stood to lose.

And losing a great person like Scott is the most difficult thing to accept.