He'd texted me just yesterday, saying he missed my soup.
But today he was holding another woman's hand.
And I foolishly rushed over, just in time to witness this wedding.
I found the address from the poster and sneaked in.
The wedding was lavish and dreamy.
I slipped into the hall just as the ceremony was beginning.
Under the spotlight, Jameson's face seemed distant and aloof, but it softened when the bride appeared.
The host asked, "Mr. Reed, do you take Ms. Brooks to be your wife?"
My mind went blank. My limbs went numb, and the thermos I was clutching fell to the floor with a thud.
Greasy chicken soup splashed all over me.
The smiling guests around me turned away with looks of disdain.
"Who's this relative?"
"Doesn't look like anyone we know. With that shabby appearance, is she here just to mooch a meal?"
"She seems unstable. Get security to take her out."
Before security dragged me out, I locked eyes with Jameson through the sea of people.
His elegant suit shone under the spotlight, dazzling and radiant.
I stood there, drenched in muck and rain, my clothes half-dry and smelling of greasy soup.
After a few seconds of eye contact, I bolted.
When I got home, it still felt like a dream.
I'd known Jameson for over a decade.
Three years ago, news broke that he was an illegitimate child. He lost his family's support, and his company went bankrupt.
That was the hardest time for us.
I drained all my savings and told him, "It's okay. We can start over."
During that time, we could only afford to buy one portion of meat when we ate out.
He always put it in my bowl.
Thankfully, he was ambitious and smart, and his career began to recover.
But I was still haunted by those tough days, learning to live frugally.
We supported each other for three years.
Now, I couldn't understand how the groom at the wedding could be the same Jameson who was so indifferent to the outside world but always affectionate towards me.
I woke up to the smell of the soup.
It was bright outside, with birds chirping clearly in the trees.
I went to the kitchen and saw Jameson's back. He was wearing an apron tied with a bow at his waist. "You're up? The soup is ready."
He scooped a bowl of the soup and fed it to me.
The temperature was just right.
He smiled, "How's the taste?"
I nodded absentmindedly.
This calm scene made me question if yesterday had been a dream.