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.”
The room went silent. I looked around, but nobody said a word. They just stared at the mangled pages.
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