>Mallory
The moment the words left my mouth—
"STOP THE WEDDING! THAT MAN IS THE FATHER OF MY SON!"
—I knew I had just detonated the social equivalent of a nuclear bomb. My breath hitched, blood draining from my face as an awkward silence hit the wedding hall so hard it echoed.
Even Asher, who'd been humming behind his headphones, paused mid-wiggle in my arms.
Hundreds of faces swiveled in perfect unison toward me: confusion, disbelief, horror, excitement — different reactions all erupting at the same time. I swear I could hear crickets in the air.
A decorative centerpiece clattered to the ground somewhere. I clutched my dress, trying to steady myself despite the suffocating, judging silence. My gaze wandered to the very front — the groom — tall, handsome, dressed in an immaculate suit, perfectly styled hair brushed upward — stared at me, a hint of confusion on *his* face before it shifted into a silent smirk.
