But my father was unwavering. He politely but firmly informed them that our family needed some time to process the events.
As I changed into dry clothes inside the venue, a flood of emotions washed over me—anger, humiliation, but also an unexpected clarity. I thought about the moments leading up to this day, the times Dylan had laughed a little too hard at my expense, brushed off my concerns, or dismissed my feelings. It was as if the shock of cold water had awakened me to the reality of our relationship.
My bridesmaids, who had rushed to my side, helped me dry my hair and offered words of consolation. Their solidarity was a balm on my still-stunned mind.
“Claire,” my maid of honor, Jane, said softly, “you deserve someone who respects you, who listens to you. This is a blessing in disguise.”
I nodded, understanding now that trust was more than a word uttered in vows; it was a fundamental aspect of any partnership. And in that moment, I realized that Dylan had been more enamored with the idea of a viral sensation than with the sanctity of our commitment.