The noise of the crowd swallowed my voice.
But James turned around for a brief moment, then got swept up by the cheering crowd, heading back inside with the bride.
Despite the loud drums and the festive atmosphere, I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice-cold abyss.
The joy and excitement I had carried home shattered into a million pieces, crushed by the sudden, brutal reality.
That door, the one I had dreamed of coming back to so many times, was right in front of me.
My homesickness had turned into a nightmare.
I watched as the noisy crowd followed them upstairs. I just stood there, frozen, unable to move.
James and I had been high school sweethearts. We dated for three years, and after we got married, I went abroad for two years to take care of his family so he could focus on finishing his studies.
How could he possibly marry someone else right under my nose?
I needed answers.
With that thought, I finally forced my feet to move and headed upstairs.
The door to the bridal room wasn’t even closed. I pushed it open and walked right in.