Yes—we got married. The ceremony proceeded as though nothing had happened. Elara never mentioned the tattoo, never mentioned the argument, never mentioned the blood dripping from my palm. By evening, it was as if none of it had ever happened.
That night, during the after-party games, the guests went wild, laughing and cheering as they pushed Elara and me into the bedroom.
“It’s time for the newlyweds to eat apples!” someone shouted.
Elara, still in her wedding dress, smiled shyly at me through the noise.
Then Dorian barged in again. He tossed the apple aside and pulled a slinky black lace camisole from a gift box, holding it high.
“Apples are boring. Look at this instead!”
A chorus of whistles rang out. The panties sparkled—the lace edges studded with rhinestones that glittered under the lights.
“Surprise wedding gift!” Dorian grinned and shoved the garment into my hands. “Don’t be nervous. It’s for her. I heard it’s comfortable—make sure she wears it tonight.”
The crowd howled with laughter.
He suddenly tugged at the hem of Elara’s dress.
“Elara, why don’t you change into it now? I bought it in your size—guaranteed to fit.”
“Change into it! Change into it!” the guests began chanting.
I snapped, teeth grinding. “Dorian, don’t go too far.”
But Elara actually took the underwear from him and slipped into the bathroom to change.
When she came back out, Dorian’s hand immediately slid toward her thigh.
“I heard the bride hid a money envelope,” he smirked. “Guess I’ll feel around for it.”
His fingers crept closer to the hem of her skirt. I seized his wrist in fury.
Elara screamed and slapped him. “Dorian! Stop it! I’m not wearing shorts under my dress.”
He winced from my grip but still wore that infuriating grin.
“Relax—we’re just playing after-party games. Elara and I have bathed together since we were kids. What’s wrong with touching her thigh?”
Then, with deliberate malice, he shook off my hand and brushed against her chest.
“Besides, what part of her body haven’t I seen?”
The laughter died down. My whole body went cold, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me.
And Elara? She didn’t lash out at him. She clung to my arm instead, pleading.
“Adrian! Don’t be angry! He’s drunk, just fooling around. Everyone’s watching—don’t spoil the fun.”
Spoil the fun.
The words drilled into my skull, each one sharper than the last.
I glared at her, my voice trembling with rage.