The Skies Cleared Before Our Wedding

I had a mild hearing impairment, which left me mostly deaf in my right ear. Growing up, Tristan Lockhart always made it a point to stand on my right side. "That way, if anyone tries to talk behind your back, I'll be the first to hear it," he used to tell me. Eventually, we got engaged, and the wedding invitations were already printed and ready to go. Everyone around us kept saying how incredibly blessed I was to have a childhood sweetheart who had spent over a decade shielding me from the world. That was until Sunny Pierce joined Tristan’s company. She was stunning, vibrant, and always spoke with a radiant smile plastered across her face. The very first time she met me, she stared intently at my hearing aid for a long moment before turning to Tristan with a playful laugh. "With her like that, can she even hear you whisper sweet nothings in her ear at night?" My face drained of all color, but Tristan merely furrowed his brow slightly. "Sunny just speaks before she thinks. Don't take it to heart." On the day of our wedding rehearsal. I stood right outside the heavy chapel doors, listening to Sunny mockingly read my vows aloud. "Thank you for tolerating me as your constant complication for over a decade. I promise to be your comfort, your constant shadow, and your favorite complication for the rest of my life." The entire room erupted into a chorus of laughter, and Tristan let out a soft chuckle along with them. "Stop messing around," he said, his voice carrying a light laugh. "If she overhears you changing the words, she's going to get upset again." Sunny paused, her tone turning playful. "Are you seriously still going to marry her, then?" Tristan fell completely silent for two long seconds. "The invitations have already been sent out," he finally replied, his voice flat. "What else am I supposed to do at this point?" I stood frozen at the very end of the corridor. The umbrella he had once gifted me was still dripping rainwater onto the tile floor. But suddenly, I had absolutely no desire to walk through those doors. Chapter 1 When Tristan Lockhart walked out of the chapel, I was looking down, drying the rainwater from my hands. He paused mid-step, looking caught off guard. "When did you get here?" I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "Just arrived." Sunny Pierce trailed right behind him, a natural, easy smile plastered across her face. "Hey, Grace. We were just messing around inside. You didn't happen to overhear us, did you?" She intentionally stepped over to my right side—the exact spot where my hearing was at its worst. Tristan furrowed his brow and shot her a warning glance. "Stop playing." Sunny stuck her tongue out playfully. "Fine, I'll stop. It’s just that Grace has trouble with her ears, you know? I’ll make sure to always stand on her left from now on when I speak." She framed it as an act of pure thoughtfulness. Yet, the surrounding groomsmen and bridesmaids couldn't help but chuckle. I kept my eyes on Tristan. In the past, whenever anyone dared to make a joke about my hearing, his face would instantly turn ice-cold. He was always the first to defend me. He used to tell me that being unable to hear wasn't my fault. He said the people who lacked basic manners were the ones who should feel utterly humiliated. But now, he merely snatched the sheet of wedding vows out of Sunny's hand and extended it to me. "Don't overthink this. She just speaks before she thinks." I took the paper from him. The words written across it had been completely scribbled over and defaced. Originally, I had written: Thank you for being my right ear for over a decade. But Sunny had altered it to read: Thank you for tolerating me as your constant complication for over a decade. My thumb pressed against that line, the paper absorbing a faint smudge of moisture from the rain. Noticing it, Tristan reached out to pull the sheet back. "I'll have someone print out a fresh copy for you." I took a deliberate step backward, out of his reach. "No need." His hand froze mid-air. "Grace." I could tell that his irritation was rising. "Tristan, don't be so harsh on Grace," Sunny said, letting out a soft, delicate cough beside him. "I’m sure she just feels like I'm trying to steal her spotlight today." Tristan rubbed the space between his eyebrows in sheer exhaustion. "Am I wrong?" Sunny asked, turning her smiling gaze toward me. "After all, everyone has been crowding around me during today's rehearsal. It’s only natural for Grace to feel a little unhappy about it." Someone standing nearby stepped in to diffuse the tension. "Alright, let's calm down. It’s just a little pre-wedding friction." "Yeah, don't be upset, bride-to-be. Look at how incredibly well Tristan treats you." As if triggered by that reminder, Tristan stepped closer and reached out to grasp my hand. "Let's go. I'll drive you back home. The weather is brutal out there." The palm of his hand was still warm. Yet, the words he had spoken inside suddenly echoed through my mind. [The invitations have already been sent out. What else am I supposed to do at this point?] It turned out he wasn't marrying me because he actually wanted to. He was doing it simply because calling it off would create a massive, messy scene. I smoothly pulled my hand out of his grip. "No need. I'll find my own way back." Tristan watched his empty palm, his expression instantly darkening. "What is it again?" Again. The moment that word left his mouth, a sharp ringing sound filled my ears. Sunny stepped forward, her voice softening into a delicate purr. "Grace, I swear I didn't mean any harm. How about I just apologize to you?" As she spoke, she leaned down into a dramatic bow, prompting Tristan to instantly reach out and catch her. Sunny caught his arm perfectly, leaning her weight against him as she cast a subtle wink in my direction. "See? He still worries about me." A heavy silence descended over the entrance of the rehearsal hall. Tristan immediately let go of her, looking incredibly self-conscious. "Grace, she's just talking nonsense." I nodded slowly. He kept his eyes locked on me, clearly waiting for me to break down and cause a scene. But I didn't say a word. I simply folded the defaced vows neatly and slid them inside my purse. "I'm leaving now." Tristan extended his arm, blocking my path. "The wedding is in three days. Are you seriously going to pick a fight with me over a tantrum right now?" I looked down at the luxury watch resting on his wrist. It was the birthday gift I had bought him last year. Engraved on the inner lining of the leather strap was a short sentence. A lifetime promise. Back then, he had laughed and claimed it was entirely too cheesy, yet he wore it every single day. Now, that very hand was barred across my chest like a set of heavy iron shackles. I whispered softly. "Tristan, I am just a little tired." His brow knitted even tighter together. "If you're tired, go home and get some sleep. Stop acting out and throwing a fit at a crucial time like this." Sunny peeked out from right behind his shoulder. "Grace, the wedding itinerary is going to be incredibly hectic over the next few days. If you're feeling unwell, I can easily step onto the stage and handle the rehearsal for you. Honestly, I ran through those vows pretty smoothly just now anyway." Chapter 2 Someone in the background let out another chuckle. This time, Tristan didn't join in. But he didn't do a single thing to stop them, either. I shifted my gaze away from his face and reached down to pick up my umbrella. One of the structural ribs had been bent out of shape when someone accidentally bumped into it earlier. When I snapped it open, the fabric canopy listed heavily to one side. I stared down at the warped frame for a couple of seconds, but I still stepped out into the pouring rain, holding it over my head. Behind me, Tristan’s voice cut straight through the heavy downpour. "Grace, if you walk away today, don't expect me to come crawling back to smooth things over with you." My footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, I kept walking forward. The following morning, the wedding planner called my phone, asking for a final confirmation on the names for the main reception backdrop. By the time I arrived at the venue, Sunny was standing right in the center of the grand ballroom. She was wearing a sleek white satin gown. It wasn't an actual wedding dress, yet it bore a striking resemblance to a bridal gown, far outshining any standard evening wear. Tristan was sitting in the front row, his head lowered as he reviewed the itinerary clipboard. The wedding planner let out a massive sigh of absolute relief the second she saw me walk through the doors. "Miss Thorne, thank God you're finally here. Miss Pierce insists on altering the primary backdrop layout to a custom graphic she designed herself, and we didn't dare authorize it without your approval." I turned my eyes toward the stage. The original backdrop was supposed to display our names in bold typography: Tristan & Grace. Instead, it had been completely changed to a single sentence. Hidden beneath the grand quote, my name had been forced into a tiny footnote format at the very edge of the display. Sunny offered a warm, breezy smile as she stepped forward. "Grace, please don't get the wrong idea. I just felt like slapping two names directly together looked a bit unrefined. It’s a wedding, you know? It deserves to feel high-end and elegant." Before I could even open my mouth to answer, Tristan lifted his head. "I already reviewed the layout. It looks great." The wedding planner looked incredibly uncomfortable. "But this is the primary backdrop for the entire reception. The bride's name is completely miniaturized. It might not even register properly in the official photography." Sunny immediately dropped her gaze, her lip trembling slightly. "Oh, never mind then. I was genuinely just trying to lighten the load. After all, with Grace’s hearing difficulties, I know how exhausting it can be to manage all these vendors." Tristan snapped the itinerary clipboard shut. "We’re going with Sunny’s layout." I stared directly at him. "Tristan, this is my wedding." His expression remained entirely flat. "It’s my wedding too." That single sentence hit me like a physical wall, leaving me completely speechless for a long moment. Sunny glided over, linking her elbow through mine with aggressive familiarity. "Grace, don't be so incredibly serious. Getting married is supposed to be a joyous occasion. If you keep wearing a long face like that all the time, you're just going to exhaust Tristan." She was leaning in so close that the sharp notes of her perfume invaded my senses. Without making a scene, I smoothly extracted my arm from her grasp. "I don't approve of this design." Sunny’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Are you... are you saying you don't approve of me being here either?" Tristan abruptly stood up from his seat. "Grace, stop taking your frustrations out on her." I looked at him calmly. "I simply said I don't approve of the design." "You know perfectly well she was just trying to do something nice for us," he replied. He took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of me, dropping his voice to a low, warning whisper. "The wedding is coming soon. Do you genuinely have to humiliate everyone in the room?" A few of the venue staff members immediately lowered their heads, pretending to look busy, but I knew they were hanging on to every single word. My ears might miss out on a lot of spoken details, but I could feel the physical weight of those judging stares. They felt like a hundred tiny needles pricking against my skin. Sunny dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. "Let it go, Tristan. We should just stick to Grace’s original layout. She’s always been incredibly sensitive." Sensitive. There was that word again. In the past, Tristan used to tell me that I wasn't being sensitive. He used to tell me that the people speaking to me simply lacked basic human decency. But now, he stood firmly on someone else's side. Using his heavy silence to dictate the truth. To tell me that I was, indeed, just being sensitive. I reached into my purse, pulled out the original layout blueprints, and handed them directly to the wedding planner. "Execute this version." Tristan’s face turned completely cold. "Grace." I didn't even look back at him. "The name signed on the primary vendor contract belongs to me, and I was the one who wired the initial deposit. The layout arrangements will be executed exactly according to my terms." This was the absolute first time in all our years that I had ever openly contradicted him in front of outsiders. A flash of pure, stunned bewilderment flickered deep within Tristan’s eyes. "Is making a petty scene over contract logistics honestly satisfying to you right now?" Sunny hovered right behind his shoulder. "Tristan, please don't argue on my account. I'll just step away from the planning committee, okay?" The moment she turned as if to walk away, Tristan instantly reached out and caught her wrist securely. "Nobody is telling you to leave." I stared down at his hand. He was gripping her wrist tightly, as if terrified she might actually experience a single shred of mistreatment. The wedding planner stood there, looking more awkward than ever. "Um... so, which layout are we officially executing?" Tristan locked his eyes onto mine. "Grace, don't push this tantrum so far that it becomes a complete mess to clean up." Those words sounded entirely too familiar. The invitations have already been sent out. What else am I supposed to do at this point? A complete mess to clean up. It turned out that the decade we had built together was nothing more than a formal obligation to him. I slowly placed the original blueprints back into my purse. "Then let the two of you decide." Tristan’s brow relaxed a fraction, a look of minor victory washing over his face as if he had finally triumphed in some tedious, exhausting argument. A radiant smile broke across Sunny’s face as well. "Grace, don't you worry about a thing! I promise I will make sure your wedding turns out absolutely beautiful." Right before I exited the grand ballroom, I turned back to look one final time. The stark white spotlights illuminated the stage, making that sentence look completely cold and devoid of any real warmth. My name was so incredibly small it was virtually invisible. Standing there, a sudden thought crossed my mind—maybe this was actually a good thing. If it was invisible, I no longer had to look at it. My phone vibrated inside my pocket. It was a private text message sent surreptitiously by the wedding planner. [Miss Thorne, if you choose to cancel the wedding event, the contract stipulations allow for a sixty-percent refund on your initial deposit. However, we would need your final confirmation before five o'clock this afternoon.] I stared intently at those words for a very long moment, my thumb hovering silently over the screen, hesitant to tap the glass. Tristan’s voice suddenly called out to me from behind. "Grace, send me Sunny's measurements for her bridesmaid dress." Chapter 3 I turned around to face him. "But Sunny isn't part of the bridal party." "It’s just a last-minute addition," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "What’s the big deal?" Sunny stood right beside him, twirling a strand of her hair around her index finger. "If Grace doesn't want me to, then forget it. It’s not like I'm desperate to be a bridesmaid anyway." Tristan turned his head to look at her. "You don't always have to play the martyr." Then, his eyes shifted back to me. "Grace, it’s just a dress." Just a dress. Just a line of vows. Just a reception backdrop. It seemed like absolutely everything associated with me could be instantly reduced to a meaningless "just" the second Sunny cast her eyes on it. I tapped on my phone, pulling up the wedding vendor's contact information, and forwarded the bridesmaid dress shop details straight to his number. Tristan’s cold expression softened a fraction. "See? Was that really so hard?" I didn't offer a single word in response. That afternoon, I went back to my apartment to organize the rest of the wedding inventory. The living room was completely piled high with cardboard packing boxes. There were custom wedding favors, table placement cards, guest sign-in registries, and that thick, leather-bound memory album. I had curated that album entirely by hand. Spanning from elementary school to high school, and all the way through college. I had carefully affixed every single photograph in perfect chronological order. On the very first page was a snapshot of Tristan standing squarely on my right side, physically blocking a crumpled ball of paper a boy in the back row had hurled at my head. On the back of that photograph, I had scribbled a short line: He was the world I heard first. Back then, I genuinely, truly believed those words. The front doorbell chimed. I opened the door to find Sunny standing out in the hallway, flanked by two junior design assistants from the wedding agency. She offered a bright smile, casually swaying a boutique shopping bag in her hand. "Hey, Grace! I just came by to pick up the bridesmaid dress, and I figured I'd see if there was anything else I could help you unpack." I didn't step aside to grant her entry. "No need." Sunny peeked over my shoulder into the apartment. "Wow, look at all these boxes. You've prepared so much stuff." Before I could bar her path, she smoothly slipped past my side and marched straight into the living room. I reached out my arm to stop her, leaving the two design assistants hovering awkwardly at the threshold. Sunny had already caught sight of the memory album resting on the coffee table. She flipped open the first page and let out a light chuckle. "Oh my god, you guys looked so hilarious when you were little kids." I strode over and firmly snapped the album shut right in front of her. "Don't touch that." She blinked her eyes at me, looking entirely innocent. "Wow, you're keeping it that heavily guarded?" Tristan’s voice suddenly echoed from the open doorway. "Sunny, I thought you said you were just running in to grab the dress?" He had followed her up. Sunny immediately retracted her hands, pulling them close to her chest. "I was genuinely just taking a quick look, but it seems like Grace is really angry with me now." Tristan directed his gaze toward me. "She was just being curious, Grace." I clutched the memory album tightly against my chest, refusing to let go. "I explicitly said not to touch it." Tristan’s face turned completely cold. "Grace, how much longer are you honestly going to drag out this tantrum today? "Nobody is trying to steal your things," Sunny murmured in a tiny, fragile voice. "Tristan, please don't scold her. I'm sure it’s just because of her childhood hearing loss... people with those kinds of challenges usually suffer from a severe lack of emotional security over their personal belongings." Tristan didn't offer a single word to contradict her statement. Instead, he fell into a heavy silence that lasted for two agonizing seconds. I stared blankly at him. Those two seconds were entirely long enough. Long enough for me to realize that deep down in his heart, he viewed me exactly the same way. Sunny reached into an open inventory box and pulled out an intricate bridal corsage. "Oh, wow! Grace, would it be okay if I kept this specific piece? I think it looks absolutely stunning." That corsage had been painstakingly designed for the bride. A cluster of pristine white camellias. It was a flower I had cherished deeply for years. And Tristan knew that better than anyone. Because when we were young children, I had severely misheard a word due to my right ear. I had completely mistaken the word "Camellia" for the word "Comfort." Ever since that day, he would gift me a fresh branch of camellias on every single one of my birthdays, repeating the same promise to me over and over again. "I am your comfort." Now, Sunny was pinching those exact camellias between her fingers, smiling beautifully as she asked if she could just take them for herself. My voice was entirely unwavering. "No." Tristan took a few steps forward, stepping between us. "If she likes it, just let her have it. We can easily have the florist whip up a duplicate on the morning of the wedding." I lifted my eyes to look directly into his. "Tristan, you were the one who personally selected that flower." He stiffened, caught entirely off guard for a fraction of a second. Sunny looked back and forth between the two of us, a brilliant grin spreading across her face. "Oh, wow! So you were the one who picked it out, Tristan? Well, that makes me love it even more." Without waiting for permission, she pinned the white camellias directly onto the bodice of her white satin dress. "How do I look?" Tristan didn't offer an answer, but he didn't instruct her to take it off either. A sudden, immense weight seemed to settle into the memory album I was clutching. It felt so incredibly heavy that my wrists began to physically ache. I lowered my head, placing the album back down into the packing box. Then, I pulled out my phone and tapped open the private text chain with the wedding planner, typing out a direct response. [If we officially cancel the event, you need the final confirmation before five o'clock this afternoon, correct?] The response flashed across the screen almost instantly. [Yes, that is correct.] Before my fingers could even trace the glass to type out my confirmation, Tristan suddenly reached down and forcefully snatched the phone right out of my grip. "Who exactly are you texting right now?" The screen was still illuminated, and the text log glared right back at him. The entire living room descended into a sudden, suffocating silence. Tristan stared intently at the words on the screen, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly low, dangerous register. "Grace, what is the absolute meaning of this?" Chapter 4 I reached out my hand to retrieve my phone, but Tristan lifted it a fraction higher, well out of my reach. "Answer me." Sunny leaned in close to catch a glimpse of the lit screen, looking entirely taken aback. "Cancel the wedding event? Grace, you cannot possibly be serious right now." I kept my eyes locked on Tristan. "Give me back my phone." He didn't budge an inch. "You're seriously going to cancel our entire wedding over a few minor issues from the past few days?" A few minor issues. A faint, hollow laugh escaped my throat. "Yeah. Minor issues." Tristan’s expression turned even more hostile. "Grace, do not use this kind of childish tactic to threaten me." "I am not threatening you." "Then what exactly do you think you're doing right now?" He slammed the phone down onto the coffee table, his index finger pressing hard against the glass screen. "You know perfectly well that all of our relatives have been notified, the venue has been booked, and hundreds of invitations have already been sent out. If you cancel this now, is your sole goal to make me look like a complete laughingstock?" My gaze fell upon the pristine white camellias pinned against Sunny's dress, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, draining every ounce of my energy to argue. "It won't. It won't make you look like a laughingstock." I should have realized the truth long ago. The thing he cared about was never whether I was drowning in grief. He only cared about whether the formal outward appearance of his life remained completely unblemished. Sunny gently tugged at the cuff of Tristan’s sleeve. "Tristan, please don't be angry. I'm sure Grace is just acting out because she wants you to chase after her and smooth things over." Tristan let out a sharp, cold sneer. "Have I not chased after her enough in our lives?" He glared down at me, his voice dropping to a low, heavy register. "Grace, from the time we were little kids up until today, when have you ever not been exactly like this? "Whenever you can't hear a sentence clearly, I'm the one who has to repeat it. Whenever you're unhappy, I'm the one who has to guess why. If anyone else says a single offhand remark to you, your eyes instantly turn red with tears. "In the past, I genuinely believed you just needed me to shield you. But now, it's just completely exhausting." I stood frozen in place, a loud, violent ringing echoing through my right ear. Yet, despite the noise, I heard every single word he spoke with absolute clarity. Sunny added another soft, delicate remark from behind him. "Honestly, Tristan is kind of the victim here too. He’s spent so many years taking extra care of you... it’s not right that he doesn't get to have a single say in his own wedding arrangements." Tristan didn't offer a single word to deny her statement. My eyes drifted away from him, landing on the white umbrella resting against the doorframe, its metal skeleton visibly warped. When he had first gifted it to me, he told me that whenever it rained and he couldn't be by my side, this umbrella would be there to shield me in his place. I walked over and picked it up. Tristan’s brow furrowed tightly. "Are you seriously trying to storm out again?" I didn't offer an answer. I simply extended the umbrella, holding it out directly toward him. He refused to reach out and take it. So, I slowly lowered my arm and placed it right at his feet. "I'm returning it to you." Tristan’s pupils constricted into sharp pinpricks. "Grace, are you actually being serious right now?" Sunny suddenly bent down and snatched the umbrella off the floor. "Wow, this thing looks incredibly ancient. The structural ribs are completely out of shape." She snapped it open to inspect it, the fabric canopy listing heavily to one side. "No wonder Grace doesn't want it anymore." My tone turned entirely detached and freezing. "Put it down." Sunny flinched, visibly startled by the sudden drop in my voice. Her grip loosened instantly, and the umbrella dropped hard against the hardwood floor. The heavy metallic tip slammed violently against the wooden leg of the coffee table with a sharp, echoing crack. The final remaining structural support rib snapped entirely in two. The living room fell into a dead, heavy silence, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner. Tristan stared down at the broken umbrella at his feet, the expression on his face finally fracturing into absolute shock. But Sunny was the first one to let her eyes well up with tears. "I am so incredibly sorry! I swear I didn't mean to break it. Grace, please don't look at me like that... you're genuinely terrifying me." Tristan snapped out of his daze, immediately stepping forward to block her from my sight. "Grace, it’s just an old umbrella. If it's broken, I will buy you a brand new one to replace it." I stared at him for a very long moment. Then, slowly, I nodded my head. "Okay." My flat reaction seemed to make him feel even more deeply irritated. "Stop being so passive-aggressive." I squatted down onto the floor, picking up the broken metal fragments of the umbrella frame one by one. The jagged metal edges scraped against my fingertips, leaving a sharp, stinging pain behind. Tristan reached out his hand, attempting to pull me back up. "Stop picking those up. You're going to slice your hands open." I shifted my body, deliberately dodging his touch. "No need." Sunny whispered softly from behind his back, "Tristan, maybe I should just head downstairs first. I genuinely feel like Grace absolutely loathes my presence here." Tristan rubbed the space between his eyebrows in absolute exhaustion. "I'll walk you down to your car." He turned his head back to cast one final glance at me. "Just stay home and clear your head. The wedding is proceeding exactly as planned, so stop throwing these endless fits." He strode over to the entryway, but as he reached the front door, his footsteps halted once more. "Grace, I know for a fact that you cannot survive without me. Call me once you've finally thought things through logically." The heavy front door clicked shut. The apartment descended into an absolute, unbroken silence. I tossed the broken fragments of the umbrella straight into a trash bag, then walked over to the coffee table and picked up my phone. The wedding planner had sent one final text message. [Miss Thorne, you have exactly ten minutes left.] I held down the audio button on my messaging application. My voice was completely flat, completely steady. "Cancel it."