Her face crumbles, not gradually, all at once, like a switch. Tears spill down her cheeks. She rushes to the center of the room, hands pressed to her chest.
“This is my day.”
Her voice breaks perfectly.
“She always does this. She has always been jealous of me.”
She turns to the crowd, mascara streaking.
“I invited her because I wanted her here. The slideshow was supposed to be funny. She’s twisting everything.”
A few guests shift uncomfortably. There it is. That hesitation that predators rely on. The moment where onlookers wonder, maybe the crying woman is the real victim.
Paige spins toward Garrett.
“You’re choosing her on our wedding day.”
Vivian rushes to Paige’s side, wrapping an arm around her.
“My baby. They’re attacking my baby.”
She looks at Eleanor with wet eyes.
“Can’t you see what’s happening?”
For a second, just a second, I feel the room tilt back toward them. Tears are powerful. A bride crying at her own wedding is powerful. I see doubt flash across a few faces.
Then Eleanor speaks. She doesn’t raise her voice. She simply takes out her phone, glances at the screen still glowing behind us.
“Funny.”
She reads from the slides.
“Infertile. Failure. Alone.”
She looks at Paige.