Page 43 of Orc'd At A Wedding
I take Bliss's hand, lacing my fingers through hers.
"We're leaving."
"The reception isn't over," Aunt Susan protests weakly.
"It is for us."
I guide Bliss through the crowd, my hand firm on the small of her back, physically shielding her from the stares and whispers erupting in our wake.
No one tries to stop us.
Good.
We walk through the elegant ballroom, past the ice sculptures and the champagne towers and the dance floor full of drunk relatives, and I don't look back.
Bliss is silent beside me, her breathing uneven, her hand gripping mine like a lifeline.
We push through the heavy glass doors and out into the night.
The cool air hits us immediately, sharp and clean after the suffocating atmosphere inside.
The venue is situated on a hillside overlooking the ocean, and the view is stunning. Stars scattered across a black velvet sky. Waves crashing against the rocks below. The distant lights of the resort twinkling in the darkness.
I lead her down the stone pathway away from the building, away from the noise and the judgment and the poison.
She's shaking.
I stop near a stone bench tucked into a private alcove, surrounded by night-blooming jasmine.
"Breathe," I tell her.
She tries. It comes out as a choked sob.
"They're going to hate me," she whispers.
"They already did."
"Olog—"
"No." I turn her to face me, my hands framing her face. "Listen to me. You don't owe them anything. Not your time. Not your energy. Not your emotional labor. Nothing. They made you feel small your entire life because it made them feel big. That ends tonight."
"But they're my family."
"Family is supposed to lift you up, Bliss. Not tear you down. What they've been doing isn't love. It's control. And you deserve better."
Her eyes are shining with unshed tears.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yes. I did."
"The contract?—"
"Fuck the contract."
I pull out my phone, and her eyes go wide.
"What are you doing?"
