“Uncle prepared something too?”
She unfolded it with a smile, read only the first line, and couldn't hold back a laugh.
“Today, I give away my most precious daughter to Donald……”
She looked up at Donald.
“That's so old-fashioned.”
“Who even says things like this at a wedding anymore?”
A few of the staff around her laughed too.
My father's face flushed red at once.
He reached out to take the paper back.
“My speech isn't very good.”
“The writing's not good either.”
“So I won't say it.”
But Sophia acted as if she hadn't noticed his embarrassment, and flipped through it again.
She read out the phonetic notes my father had penciled in, and suddenly laughed.
“Uncle was even afraid of mispronouncing it?”
“Really, there's no need to be so nervous. Nobody actually wants to hear this stuff.”
The staff around her laughed along.
My father's face burned red.
Donald finally spoke.
But not to save my father.
Instead, he said:
“Sophia has a point.”
“This part really doesn't suit the style of today's wedding.”
“Uncle, let's just cancel the speech for now.”
My father clutched the paper, his lips moving.
In the end he only said: “All right. Whatever you've arranged.”
I watched him fold the speech back up and tuck it into the already-creased pocket of his suit.
The movement was slow.
Like he was tucking away the last of his dignity along with it.
That speech, he'd spent a full two weeks preparing.
Once when I came home, I saw him sitting in the living room, recording himself on his phone.
He'd get one line wrong, then delete it and start over.
He said:
“Sweetheart, your dad's not an educated man.”
“But you're getting married, so I have to do it properly.”
“I can't have people thinking there's no one from your side standing up for you.”
Back then I just laughed at how nervous he was.
I said: “Dad, just standing there is enough.”
But today.
He didn't even get the chance to stand up there.
Sophia handed the schedule back to the emcee.
“I'll go up and speak in a bit.”
“I know Donald well, and I know the run of show too.”
She looked at my parents with a smile.
“Uncle and Auntie aren't good with words, so it's all the same if I speak for you.”
My mother lowered her head.
My father didn't argue either.
By now they were probably used to it.
As long as it was for my sake, they could endure anything.
Just then the emcee came over with a reminder.
“Miss Chase, please get ready.”
“Your speech is the next segment.”
Sophia smoothed down the hem of her gown and passed by me.
She paused a moment, her voice dropped very low.
“Sis, tell Uncle and Auntie not to feel bad.”
“It's not convenient for them to go up, so I'll say a few words of blessing for them. Consider it me smoothing things over for you all.”
When she finished, a flicker of smugness crossed her eyes.
I didn't look at her.
I only glanced down at my phone.
The wedding planner had sent a message:
“Everything's ready.”
“Are you sure you want to play it now?”
I looked up.
At the end of the red carpet, Sophia had already taken the microphone.
Donald stood below the stage, his eyes on her tender and indulgent.
And my parents sat in the darkest corner.
One clutching the canceled speech.
One clutching that ill-fitting black skirt suit.
Slowly, I typed one word.
“Play.”
The next second, what appeared on the giant screen made every guest below gasp all at once.
