[1] Gone Groom | Seonghwa ✓

one | crazy sexy moodmaker

1

'OH, HONEY, YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL.'

   I see mother's tear-stained face, blotted and deplorable, enough to stir up tears of my own. She looks nothing like the breathtaking woman from only an hour ago—sixty minutes later, she resembles a depressed clown stuck in the rain.

   Ah, today. The day every woman anticipates, the big day. The day of tears, ruined make-ups, handovers from reluctant fathers to almost smug-looking son-in-laws. The day of exchanges—vows, rings, spit, you name it.

   The full-length mirror shows me someone—me—refined and done absolute justice to with the ridiculously expensive gown of white, lace, and pearls. From said mirror, I can see mother, her once noisy sobs reduced to quiet whimpers. Bae sits in a corner, my best friend is anything but happy, something I understand; something I only willingly acquiesce to at the back of your mind.

   Today isn't half as joy-filled as I thought it would be, leaving me to ponder if things would eventually look up. Like I think they always do.

   It goes far beyond pessimism (I'm no pessimist) or doubt (I'm not always doubtful). But rather, something I've been aware of for quite some time now. And even after every confirmed suspicion, I still have hard time believing any of it.

   Guess that's what love would do to someone, huh.

   Behind every rumour, there's a flicker of truth, they say. Of late, I'm highly convinced when he pops to mind. Not what I should be dwelling on today of all days—my big day, whoopee—however, the mind thinks what it wants. And what it seeks for this very minute is having me reach some breaking point.

   Roughly thirty minutes to go, then we both would be stood, face to face, that pretend lovestruck look painted on one of our faces (or maybe both our faces), hoping the minister got everything over with just so we could return to the same life. Life before the white gown, grey tux and gold bands.

   Back to when the heavy diamond on my finger was the only thing that sparkled bright in our relationship.

   Of course, he has always had a way with goings-on around him. That's Park Seonghwa for you. And before you know it, he's taking away that sadness once having convinced you of being the only one capable of doing so. Now, though that period of ... sanity is only momentary, it's there—you're aware of it. You're nothing short of overwhelmed with gratification. Then the sun peeks out from the horizon the next morning, ready to taunt you out of bed, into whatever fate has planned for the day, but you soon realise the space beside you is void of any soul, he's nowhere in sight; already gone until nightfall. You go on with life's daily routine, feeling just like yesterday, except one percent worse. Afterwards, you're heaving a very melancholic sigh, reminding yourself that he is indeed the only bringer of joy in your saturnine life.

   The sum up of my existence in twenty-four hours. One I'm so much habituated to now I don't seek for a change.

   He's the giver, yet the taker—a pulchritudinous irony I'm willing to hold onto for as long as it takes.

   'You look so beautiful, sweetheart,' Mother testifies for the umpteenth time. I shift where I stand, enough to give her my best fake smile; the it's-fake-but-only-I-should-know-it's-fake kind.

    'Thanks, Mom,' I face the mirror again when I hear Lia—the darling responsible for how bewitching I look—sound out a low grunt of displeasure. Her eyes are in slits, glaring at me past long lashes. I render an apologetic smile. It manages to be sincere. 'I would say the same to you but ... you know.'