Chapter 8 - The Walk of Shame
The doors slammed shut.
The silence that returned was different this time. It was heavy, suffocating, and reeking of collective guilt.
Two hundred people sat in their formal gowns and tailored suits, frozen in place. The society elite, the Cornell alumni, the superficial friends who had joined in the mockery—all of them were suddenly hyper-aware of where they were sitting, and more importantly, where *I* had been placed.
Albert’s "parents" were already being led away in separate cruisers outside, their rented jewelry seized on the spot.
On the raised stage, Chloe stood completely alone among the ruins of her wedding feast.
She was clutching her chest, her breathing coming in ragged, wheezing sobs. The white dress—the one she had insisted on buying at an exorbitant boutique on Oak Street, rejecting the lace veil her mother had left behind—looked ridiculous now. It wasn't the gown of a triumphant bride. It was a shroud of humiliation.
Slowly, she looked up.
Her eyes swept across the room. She looked at her friends from graduate school; they looked down at their napkins. She looked at the groomsmen; they were busy whispering furiously among themselves, calling their lawyers.
Nobody stepped toward the stage. Nobody went to comfort the bride who had fallen from the sky.
Then, her eyes traveled all the way to the back wall. Past table eighteen. Past table twenty-five. Straight to the silver garbage can.
Our eyes met.
The realization hit her like an physical blow. I saw her knees buckle. She had to grab the edge of the splintered sweetheart table to keep from collapsing onto the ruined cake.
She remembered the months of cold text messages. She remembered telling me that I was "embarrassing" to have around Albert's sophisticated friends. She remembered telling me that if I couldn't wear a designer tuxedo and fit into their world, I should just stay in the back where I wouldn't ruin the aesthetic.
I stood up from the folding chair.
Every single head in the ballroom turned to watch me. I adjusted the cuffs of my suit jacket, stepped around the garbage can, and began walking slowly toward the center aisle.
May you like
The room parted for me without a sound. Men who had laughed at me shifted uncomfortably, bowing their heads as I passed. Albert's closest friend, a hedge-funder named Trevor who had taken a photo of me earlier, quickly shoved his smartphone deep into his pocket and stared intently at his polished shoes.
I didn't look at any of them. I kept my eyes fixed entirely on my little girl.
