The Groom Who Stayed
I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents.
It was my fifth wedding.
The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off.
First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough.
Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out.
Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside.
Fourth time? Same story.
I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars?
Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time?
This year, I was trying again.
Wedding number five.
This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man.
I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them.
But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.