I froze, my mind racing. It was Melisa—the girl who my wealthy family had raised thinking she was their own. In the video, she sat on the balcony railing, tears streaming down her face. "Today is Cody and my sister's wedding. I should be happy for them, but I love Cody."
"Melisa!" screamed the man next to me in anguish, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be my groom and declaring his undying love for her instead.
My parents in the front row panicked and bolted without a word. Cody looked like he wanted to follow them, but I clung to his sleeve and pleaded, “My parents are already at Melisa’s place. Today’s our wedding—can we at least finish what we started?”
My foster mom just wanted me to be happy. If she found out I was abandoned at my own wedding, it would break her heart. But Cody didn’t seem to care. He slowly pried my fingers off his sleeve, one by one.
It hurt—a sharp pain in both my hand and my heart. “Why are you being so cruel?” he said. “It’s just a wedding, do you think it’s more important than Melisa’s life? She loves me so much she’d die without me.”