My mojo

The summer after the college entrance exams, on the rooftop where Frederick Miller and I often went, I lost something I cherished deeply.

From that moment on, my life was devoid of stars.

1

Seven years later.

As I walked into the wedding venue, arm in arm with Ralph Wheeler, we instantly became the center of attention.

Even the bride and groom on stage were visibly shocked.

Ralph, unfazed, led me to his parents seated in the place of honor and introduced me solemnly, "Dad, Mom, this is Rosie Dobson, my girlfriend."

Ralph's father, Nelson Wheeler, remained stern as he snorted dismissively and looked away.

Ralph's mother, Evelyn Wheeler, shot me a fierce glare before turning her head in anger.

Their reactions were just as expected.

I braced myself and greeted them with a smile, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, it's nice to meet you."

Naturally, my words were met with silence.

The atmosphere grew awkward.

Ignoring his parents' reactions, Ralph guided me to a seat far from the main table and sat me down.

Around us, whispers filled the air.

I kept my gaze forward, pretending not to hear.

"Ralph, why are you late to your sister's wedding?"

His uncle was the first to reprimand him.

A renowned lawyer and the legal advisor for Wheeler Group, he was well-respected in the industry.