I watched my ex-fiancée marry my father today.
When the officiant finally said, “You may kiss the bride,” the silence inside the room felt unbearable.
No applause.
No laughter.
No smiling relatives dabbing tears from their eyes.
Nothing.
My father leaned toward Chloe with all the warmth of a businessman closing a deal. She barely turned her head before he pressed a quick kiss against her cheek.
It didn’t feel romantic.
It didn’t even feel real.
The entire ceremony felt hollow, like two people performing a script neither of them believed in.