"No!" My mother answered without hesitation. "Avery, please come straight to the address I sent you before. Hurry. You don't need to do anyone else's makeup."
"Okay, got it." Avery's reply was brief.
She didn't end the call. It remained on speaker, and moments later, a commotion erupted from the other end.
Then I heard Isabelle's soft, gentle voice. "Warren, I'm really okay. Ms. Avery can go do Sister Jade's makeup first."
After a short pause, she added sweetly, "But my mom practically watched you grow up. She really wants to look presentable at your wedding too."
She was obviously talking to Warren.
Before I had the chance to say anything, the call ended.
Knowing the makeup artist was finally on her way lifted everyone's spirits.
My mother smoothed the wrinkles from her white ceremonial dress and quickly reorganized the schedule.
"Jade will wait for Avery."
She looked at Clara and Grace apologetically. "You two will have to make do. I'll find two backup makeup artists to do the rest of us."
Clara nodded immediately. "Don't worry, Auntie. We're flexible."
"Today is Jade's big day. We'll make sure everything still looks perfect."
Grace wrapped an arm around my shoulders in silent comfort.
My father said nothing. He simply clenched his fists, his eyes filled with heartbreak.
The moment I looked at him, tears streamed down my face again.
He had named me Jade—a precious jewel.
For twenty-seven years, he had treasured me exactly as my name suggested. He had spoiled me so much that even if a bottle of cooking oil tipped over, he would clean it himself instead of letting me lift a finger.
People often joked that a respected university professor and doctoral advisor should have given his daughter a more elegant name.
Every time, he'd laugh proudly. "What do you know? I want everyone who sees her name to understand one thing."
"My daughter is the pearl in my palm. My little princess."
For twenty-seven years... His little princess had never suffered a grievance.
Yet today, on the day she was supposed to become a bride—the man who was about to become her husband had humiliated her more deeply than anyone ever had.
And because my father didn't want to ruin my wedding, he couldn't explode in anger. He couldn't confront them. He could only swallow every ounce of rage, grinding his teeth in silence.
The seconds ticked by, and more than ten minutes passed.
Outside, the pitch-black sky had begun to fade into the pale gray of dawn.
Using every connection she had, my mother finally managed to find two emergency makeup artists.
They began working on everyone else. The suffocating atmosphere in the room eased ever so slightly.
Suddenly, my phone rang again and Warren's name flashed on the screen.
One of my aunts smiled hopefully. "Go on, answer it. Maybe he's calling to apologize."
"The makeup artist might already be on her way."
"A wedding is a joyful occasion. Whatever it is, you two should talk it out."
I pursed my lips.
Despite everything, a tiny part of me still hoped she was right.
Taking a deep breath, I answered.
"Babe," Warren began gently, "don't be angry. Just hear me out."
"Avery won't make it to your place in time anyway. So I figured she might as well do Isabelle's mom's makeup while she's there."
"It'll make our wedding look more respectable too."
"I've already contacted another makeup artist near your house. They'll get there much faster. That way the wedding won't be delayed."
His words crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.
For several seconds, my ears rang so loudly I could barely process what he had just said.
The room fell completely silent.
Every conversation stopped, every movement froze.
Clara and Grace immediately rushed to my side, each steadying one of my arms.
My voice came out rough. "Warren... Do you even want to marry me?"
There was a pause before he answered, clearly suppressing his impatience. "Babe, of course I do. It's just makeup. Who does it doesn't really matter."
"So be reasonable, okay? I'm only trying to solve the problem as quickly as possible."
I laughed bitterly. Then my voice rose despite trying to calm myself. "After everything that happened, you still think this is just about the makeup artist?"
"It's about my dignity! It's about them trampling all over me."
"This is my wedding! I paid for that makeup artist."
"I'm the bride, and yet instead of doing my makeup, you sent her to your so-called godsister—and now even her mother..."
"So tell me, Warren. Who exactly are you marrying today?"
I took a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill over again. "We've been together for seven years. Every other time you asked me to give in to her, I did. I let it go."
"But now... Even my own wedding... You're asking me to give that away too?"
