Megan still felt a knot in her stomach whenever she replayed the timeline of that sunny, treacherous day. Everything had been prepared perfectly: the floral arch, the white chair covers, the string quartet. Nothing foreshadowed a disaster. The officiant was checking her watch nervously, and David was nowhere to be found.
Usually, it’s the bride who keeps everyone waiting, but here the groom was holding a hundred people hostage. David’s phone went straight to voicemail, which only ramped up the anxiety. Megan was already imagining terrible scenarios: a car accident, a hospital visit, a hijacking?
She stood there, gripping her bouquet until her knuckles turned white, when finally, a loud, raspy car horn shattered the silence. It wasn’t the promised limousine. As if in a bad dream, Megan watched a rusted, rattling sedan with a dented bumper roll into the country club parking lot. Out of this beat-up car stepped the family of the man she thought was her prince.
Her own parents weren’t millionaires, but they owned a solid local business and had worked hard to ensure their only daughter never went without. However, what she was seeing now didn’t fit the picture David had painted of his life. Since they met, David had implied his parents were, if not tycoons, then certainly well-off real estate developers.
He had told stories about their lake house, his father’s connections, and promised a life where Megan wouldn’t have to worry about the price of groceries. Of course, she hadn’t fallen in love with him for his bank account. She loved his sincerity, his humor, and the way he made her feel safe. But let’s be honest: financial stability makes building a future a lot less stressful. Megan was pragmatic; she knew that love was great, but it didn’t pay the mortgage.
And now, here he was, holding a sad bouquet of gas station flowers, standing next to a dirty car, wearing a suit that looked like it came from a thrift store bin. The jacket was frayed, the pants too short. Yet David, ignoring the shocked whispers of the guests, walked toward her with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, babe, traffic was a nightmare,” he started, reaching for her hand.
Megan pulled back as if she’d been burned.
“David, explain this immediately,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “Whose car is that? Why are you dressed like that? What is this cheap theater production, and why are you doing it now?”
David hesitated for a second, his eyes darting around, but then he straightened up, as if delivering a rehearsed line.
“Megan, listen… I was afraid to tell you before, so I embellished our financial situation a bit,” he blurted out.
“Embellished?” she repeated.
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