Tears

Episode 11

A month passed…

Arabel

It was the day we’d all been waiting for; Mom arrived, and dad, too—Sylvia was my maid of honour. She made sure everything went right while the guests waited in the church.

“B, you gotta make my beauty all pretty. Girl’s getting married to her prince charming!” Sylvia’s voice graced the warm air as the stylist went about fixing me up.

“You’re getting yourself all worked up, Sylvia. Chillax.” I said, and chuckled, averting my gaze from the mirror.

“Are you kidding me?” she laughed. “Today’s your very special day,” she reminded.

“I know—” a soft knock came on the door of the dressing room, stopping me.

“I wonder who that is,” Sylvia threw me a look I suspected was one that showed she had done something.

“Sylvia!!” I groaned.

“What?” she chuckled and said, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal—

“Ollie?”

“Whoooo!” Sylvia high-pitched, urging me to say something with her eyes.

“Ollie, how…”

“I only wanted to see you for the last time,”

“The last time? You traveling?”

He arched his brows. “You know what I mean.” He shut the door and made towards us.

“Ollie, I seriously wanted to tell you…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, reminding me of the way he used to whenever we got talking. “You look beautiful.”

I thanked.

“You really have no idea how sorry I am for saying those hurtful words back then.” The sadness in his voice could be detected.

Almost wanting to cry, I took a deep breath. “Ollie,” I let my breath escape, getting up from the chair. “Ollie, you really don’t have to apologize,” I said. “I’ve long forgiven you.” It felt nice seeing him again.

Hugging him one last time, I walked him to the door; all the happy memories, coming back in bits.

Sniffling as I remembered what it felt like being around him, I sighed at the thought, bidding him goodbye, as I made to finish up.

Stan—

I prayed silently for this day to go well.

Nervous at the thought of my bride-to-be walking through the door, I let out a profuse sigh, looking at my best man, as he moved his hand on his chest, signaling to me to stay calm.

“I swear, I’m nervous. Feel I’m gonna screw this up,”

“You won’t.”

I let his voice sink, standing with my hands clasped to both sides of my legs, as I watched eagerly, seeing my bride-to-be walk in with her father.

You can do this, Stan. You got this! I swallowed hard, feeling the warm air get hot.

She looked beautiful. Even ravishing. I couldn’t wait to take her in my arms and seal her lips with a French kiss.

“Here comes the bride—” a maniacal laugh tainted the air as a masked figure appeared.

“Who are you?” my mind flashed back to the day I ended things with Helga—“You see them tears you made me cry? I’ll make sure you cry them, too!” the sound of roaring bullets called me back—as my bride-to-be laid on the floor.