My Fake Marriage

“I, Richard Guetta, take you, Mia Morgan to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law, and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The traditional vows rang out in a quiet and serious atmosphere. The man who had just read the vows happily looked at the other half standing across from him, his beautiful bride.  Everyone in attendance smiled towards the two main characters in the middle of the church.  Their eyes were filled with sparkling blessings and prayers that blessings would always be with this new couple.

 Next to the handsome man who had just recited the oath, the girl with a beautiful face, wearing a gorgeous and lavish wedding dress, was smiling happily looking at the person who was about to become her husband. She gently said:

“I, Mia Morgan, take you, Richard Guetta to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law, and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The kind-hearted priest stood before them, a living witness to the beautiful love of the two who were about to embark on a new life together.

"May the Lord, in His mercy, bless the vows you have just exchanged in front of the congregation, and may He shower His divine blessings upon you both. What God has joined together, let no man separate."

After the priest's words, all the witnesses wholeheartedly exclaimed in unison:

"Amen."

Among those voices, there was a soft, shaky sound, as if the person was on the verge of tears. Yet, in this significant moment, no one paid attention to that.

Everyone lovingly watched the newlyweds exchange rings.

Having witnessed the entire process, I felt utterly hollow inside. I tried to smile and join others in congratulating the couple on their beautiful wedding, but my body betrayed me, I couldn't genuinely smile.

"Look at that ugly illegitimate girl, acting like she's some pitiable victim. How shameful!"

A woman standing near me whispered to her friend, but I heard every word clearly. Obviously, they spoke loud enough for me to hear. They wanted to show me how detestable I was to them. In their eyes, I was nothing more than a contaminant in their world.

I had become accustomed to such remarks. Hence, I no longer even thought of retaliating.

My life has always been like this - meek, humiliated, and reclusive.

That's why he left me for someone else.

Yes, the groom exchanging rings was once my fiance. Or rather, my former fiance.

The day he walked in with that woman, the face that once looked upon me with care and kindness now looked at another. He said:

"I want to marry her. You'll bless us, won't you?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to express my anger. But I just smiled and congratulated them.

I despised myself.

Seeing them now, approaching me hand in hand, the bride’s triumphant smile, and his gentle words to me:

"I'm glad you came. I hope you enjoy the party."

Holding back my emotions, I responded with a casual smile:

"Oh, of course. Wishing you both a joyful wedding and a lifetime of happiness."

He shook my hand, as close friends do, with no hint of past complications: "Thank you!"

Suddenly, the bride clung to him, pulling his hand away from mine, whispering in a playful tone, "Honey, our guests are waiting!"

"Oh, I forgot,” he turned to me, his face full of apologies, "Please enjoy the feast. I must go now."