“I just think it’s important to celebrate family,” she declared as she opened the album with a dramatic flourish.
The air left my lungs.
There was a photo of Brandon and me standing at the altar, saying our vows while Beverly hovered nearby, and below it, one of Brandon and me exiting the church.
There was just one thing missing — me!
Beverly had cut me out of every photo.
She hadn’t used a computer to edit me out. She’d used scissors.
My dress was sliced away. My arm was missing from Brandon’s side. There were jagged, white edges where my face should have been. In every single photo, I was a silhouette of negative space.
It looked like a wedding between a groom and his mother.
“You cut me out,” I whispered, tears springing to my eyes.
Beverly gave me a sweet, pitying smile. “Oh, honey, the lighting wasn’t flattering for you. I just fixed it.”
It looked like a wedding between a groom and his mother.
The room went silent. I looked around, but nobody said a word. They just stared at the mangled pages.
Brandon’s face turned a deep, angry red. “You destroyed our wedding album. Are you insane?”
Immediately, Beverly’s hand went to her chest. “Oh, my heart. I can’t handle this stress. My blood pressure is skyrocketing.”
Her sister rushed to her side, glaring at Brandon.
“She has a condition!” someone shouted.
Just like that, the script flipped.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
