WEDDING MY NIGHTMARE
The priest questioned.
Silence engulfed me as I stared at him. The man I was getting married to. A man whom I felt nothing for. Not one ounce of love.
Love…
That I doubted even existed, except in books.
“Yes.” I finally let out and watched Orson’s brows flatten to show his relief.
“Do you, Orson Wilson—“
“Yes, yes, just get this over with.” He ordered, his face expressionless.
Soon, we were walking out of the church, the only one we had found in three hours of driving, barely holding hands, acting like the strangers we were.
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