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Someone snatched the shoe from behind me. I turned around and saw an older lady. She looked concerned with her lips tensed.
“Babies are too precious and innocent. Leave the child out of this,” she said softly and walked away after giving Tristan my shoe.
“Hello, everyone. Can I have your attention, please? I’m sincerely sorry for everything going on. Sorry you had to witness this. I’m deeply sorry. I hope you forgive us for wasting your valuable time.”
I turned around to look at who was speaking and saw Tristan’s mom standing behind the pulpit at the altar.
Her voice was so rich and eloquent as she addressed the crowd. “You can return to your various homes. Thank you for coming.”
People stood up and started leaving the church, but their eyes remained glued on us. Some went over to speak to his mother, and others smiled at us as they left. Fake smiles that probably hid their true judgment.
“He is lying! I swear on my ancestors’ graves, I am not pregnant. If you can all wait here while I get a pregnancy test and—”
“Please stop. We have done enough. No more hiding. We can be happy now,” Tristan cut in, holding my cheeks. His long and rough fingers cupped my face, his large palms fitted the whole of my face.
“Wow, when are you going to quit?” I pushed his hands away.
Two girls, about my age, walked up to us with wide grins. They had matching hairstyles and the same golden cami satin dresses hugging their clear skin.
“I was expecting you to grab her hand and run out of the church,” the one with the auburn hair said, giggling.
It took everything in me not to pull her hair and tell her none of this was funny.
“That was brave of you, Tristan, to fight for the woman you love,” the other girl remarked, twirling the ends of her sandy-blonde hair.
“Anything for her,” he added softly.
I felt his eyes on me. I guessed I hadn’t punched him hard enough.
“You’re so lucky, Chloe.”
I rolled my eyes at her statement. There was no need explaining the truth to these empty heads that were gawking at him.
“Please don’t be mad at him. He really loves you and wants the best for your baby. I wish you both a happy life.”
I ignored them, and I stared into space with a clenched jaw. I wanted an explanation from him before leaving. Why me? Maybe there was more to this because it still felt surreal.
Soon, the church was empty. I turned to Tristan. I opened my mouth to say something, but I heard his mom’s voice.
“Tristan,” she called, sounding so calm, but there was a hint of anger in her voice.
I turned to look at her. She was walking toward us with the girl I had seen earlier, and an older woman followed. I assumed from the slight resemblance that she must be his grandmother.
His mom looked stunning in her golden gown, covered with a sheer knee-length jacket. He’d definitely gotten those blue eyes from her.
Tristan moved closer, put his arm around my waist, and then kissed my cheek. I could feel his unwanted breath brush against my jaw.
Eww. I tried to pull away.
I was sure this counted as sexual harassment. The charges I would place on him would send him to jail for years without bail. I tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he tightened his grip around my waist. I stepped on his foot until he let go.
“Please, play along,” he begged.
“No! Tell your family the truth,” I demanded.
I thought of what his mom would say to me. She stopped two feet away from us.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” Tristan said.
