Chapter 3

I froze.

Panic seized me, and I tried to run toward the exit to go to the hospital.

But Sean grabbed my wrist.

Since I couldn't see, I struggled wildly.

Snap.

A sharp, sickening pain shot up from my ankle.

Sean let go of my hand in a panic.

"Chloe, I..."

I gritted my teeth against the agonizing pain.

"Get away from me!"

"Sean, do you have any idea what legs mean to a ballet dancer?"

His voice filled with panic. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to stop you because the wedding isn't over yet."

Two years ago, I had slipped and sprained my ankle.

Sean had stood outside the house of a retired, elite sports physical therapist for three whole months, begging him to treat me, just to ensure my ballet career wouldn't be ruined.

After that, he even learned physical therapy massage techniques just so he could massage my leg every single night.

"Oh, come on, Chloe. The doctors are there. Grandma will be fine," Emily said, her briefly panicked voice returning to its usual playful tone. "She loves you the most and wanted nothing more than to see you and Sean get married. You can't let her down."

Sean quickly chimed in, his voice soft and persuasive.

"Emily is right."

"Going to the hospital now won't help. Let's finish the wedding first, and then we'll go see Grandma together. She'll be so happy."

I didn't reply.

Sean tentatively wrapped his arm around my shoulder, trying to guide me back to the chapel.

I wrenched my shoulder away, knocking his hand off, and let out a mocking laugh.

"Sean, the wedding photos at the altar have been replaced with pictures of me and another man. Do you really think I'm going to finish this wedding with you?"

Sean's voice shook violently.

"You... you knew? Who told you?"

He let out a heavy sigh.

"This is my fault. I can explain."

But before he could, Emily quickly interrupted him.

"Sean, don't take the blame for me."

"I was the one who picked up the photos from the studio and didn't check them properly."

"I'm sorry, Chloe."

Her voice cracked, turning into a soft, pathetic whimper.

Hearing her cry, Sean's heart immediately softened, and he stepped in to defend her.

"Chloe, Emily is your sister. There's no need to be so harsh on her."

His tone was incredibly casual, as if this were just some minor, trivial mistake.

But on the day we took our wedding photos, Sean had saved every single picture to his phone. He used to look at them every single morning when he woke up.

"You can't blame Emily for this. The photo studio must have made a mistake," my parents chimed in, eager to excuse her.

It was just like when we were kids.

If I broke a plate, my parents would make me stand outside in the cold as punishment.

But if Emily broke a plate, they would blame the store for selling cheap, defective dinnerware.

I lifted my head, staring into the pitch-black darkness.

I turned in the direction of their voices and spoke with absolute clarity.

"Sean, Mom, Dad. I am saying this for the very last time."

"Take this blindfold off my face, and replace all those photos with the real ones."

Perhaps, if they did, there was still a shred of hope left for us.

Silence met my words.

After a few agonizig seconds, my parents finally spoke up, their voices hesitant.

"Chloe, your sister worked really hard to plan this game for you..."

"Yeah, don't let her kind intentions go to waste."

Sean's deep voice followed.

"Chloe, it's too late to change the photos now."

"As for the blindfold, it doesn't affect anything anyway. I'll hold your hand and lead you the whole way."

My heart shattered into dust.