"Angela, don’t blame Clyde. I’ve never worn such a beautiful wedding dress. If I can’t marry Clyde, I may never marry in my life again. I may never wear a wedding dress again."
"So, I couldn’t help but cry when I saw it. Clyde was so kind to let me wear it and take wedding photos with him."
"If it bothers you, I'll take it off right now," Betty said, her red, tearful eyes looking up at me. Her trembling hands reached behind her back to unzip the wedding dress.
Worried she might accidentally damage the dress my mother had painstakingly created, I stepped forward.
"I'll help you," I said calmly.
Betty glanced at me as I moved behind her, her eyes darting briefly before she suddenly stumbled forward.
In front of her was a small platform, about 50 to 60 centimeters high, temporarily set up for taking photos. She screamed as she fell.
I instinctively reached out to catch her but couldn’t.
When Betty hit the ground, the jade necklace around her neck snapped, scattering fragments everywhere.
I immediately knelt to pick up the broken pieces, the sharp edges piercing my cold, swollen fingers. Blood dripped from my hands, yet I felt no physical pain—only the sharp ache in my heart.
Clyde’s eyes widened when he saw my bloodied hands. He reached out to pull me up, but I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze.
He hesitated, his lips parting as though to speak, but Betty’s voice interrupted.
"Clyde, my stomach hurts so much... I don’t know if the baby can be saved," she whimpered, her face pale with pain.
"That’s your child... the child I tried so hard to conceive for you. Please help me!"
Her words struck like a blade to my chest. Betty was pregnant with Clyde’s child. Judging by her flat stomach, she couldn’t have been pregnant for more than three months—months that coincided with the happiest time of my life, when Clyde had agreed to marry me and we traveled the world together.
Was it possible that during our travels, he had brought Betty along?
Clyde scooped Betty into his arms as if she were a fragile doll. His voice softened as he murmured, "Betty, how did you fall? Don’t be afraid—I’ll take you to the hospital right now."
Betty clung to Clyde’s arm, her tearful eyes briefly meeting mine before darting away in feigned guilt. She buried her face in Clyde’s chest.
Clyde’s gaze turned icy as he looked at me, now holding Betty protectively. His voice was sharp and accusing.