Stolen Vows, Unbroken Hearts

At the bride’s family home, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Relatives and friends filled the living room, their voices mingling in a joyous hum as final preparations for the wedding were made. The house was alive with the kind of energy that only a wedding day can bring—the culmination of months of planning, the anticipation of a new chapter beginning.

In the midst of this bustling scene, a little girl was brought to the bride’s side by her mother. She was no ordinary child today; she was the flower girl, the small star of the occasion, dressed in layers of delicate pink fabric that swished with every step. Her mother had carefully arranged a sparkling diamond tiara on her head, adding the final touch to her transformation into a miniature princess. As soon as she appeared, exclamations of admiration erupted from the onlookers.

“Wow, your little Yaya looks like an angel! Just look at that face—she’s absolutely adorable!” one of the women gushed, her eyes wide with delight.

“Yes, Yaya is definitely the cutest flower girl I’ve ever seen,” another agreed. “Those big eyes are simply irresistible! After today’s wedding, I’m going to try for a baby too—I want a cute little princess just like her to play with.”

“Oh, come on! With you two?” a third woman chimed in, laughing. “Yaya’s got that unique charm—she’s a quarter Bhutanese, you know! That’s why she looks so special. But I’ve got a chance though—I’ve decided I’m going to marry a foreigner, haha.”

At five years old, Yaya understood some of what the adults were saying, though much of it went over her head. What she did understand was how much she loved the way her mother had dressed her today. The pink princess dress made her feel like she was floating, and the tiara on her head sparkled just like the ones she had seen in her favorite fairy tales. As she caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, Yaya’s eyes widened in awe. She felt like she had stepped straight out of her favorite storybook, transformed into her beloved character, Snow White.

Unbeknownst to her, this moment would be the beginning of a lifelong love for weddings, for being a flower girl, and for everything to do with bridesmaids. The beautiful dresses, the sense of celebration, the magical transformation into something extraordinary—it all captivated her young heart.

Seventeen years later, in a luxurious five-star hotel’s bridal suite…

The once-little Yaya was now Anny—Tu Yaya—no longer a wide-eyed flower girl but today’s bridesmaid. The bridal suite was a whirlwind of activity, with stylists, makeup artists, and wedding planners rushing in and out, each focused on their tasks. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and perfume, mingling with the faint strains of classical music playing in the background.

The door to the suite swung open once more, and the wedding planner hurried in, a look of mild exasperation on her face. “Anny, the photographer is getting impatient. You all need to hurry up!” she urged, checking her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I know, I know,” Anny replied, glancing at the clock herself. Despite the chaos, her voice remained calm, a skill she had honed over the years as a bridesmaid at countless weddings. She turned her attention back to the bride, her close friend Weiwei, who sat on the edge of the bed, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly.

“Weiwei, my dear, don’t be like this,” Anny said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her friend’s hand. “Today is your wedding day. What bride keeps a gloomy face on her wedding day? You heard the planner—they’re urging us again. Come on, let’s go take those photos.”

But Weiwei barely reacted. She looked up at Anny with wide, troubled eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Anny, you know I don’t love this man. I haven’t even had the chance to become friends with him.”

Anny sighed, her heart aching for her friend. “I know. You’re in love with someone else—Luo Bing, right?” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “But you’ve already put on the wedding dress. Since you promised your father, just go ahead with the wedding. If it comes to it, you can always get a divorce later when things have settled down.”

Weiwei let out a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. “Sigh, Yaya, why can’t I have a normal family like yours? I wouldn’t be used as a bargaining chip, sold off so easily. The worst part is, the one who sold me is my own father, and I had no choice in the matter.”

Anny’s expression softened, and she leaned in closer, her voice soothing. “Weiwei, don’t say that. Sometimes, adults see further than we do. Maybe your father’s decision is what’s best for you. Luo Bing isn’t that great anyway—he’s such a flirt, always ambiguous with everyone. You like him so much, but has he ever changed for you? Besides, no one knows what the future holds, so who’s to say which path will lead you to happiness? Don’t be sad. Today is your wedding day, and look at you—you’re so beautiful, I’m jealous!”

“Beautiful? Because of this wedding dress?” Weiwei scoffed, glancing down at the intricate lace and satin gown that clung to her slender frame. “Hmph!”

A sudden thought seemed to cross her mind, and she looked at Anny with pleading eyes. “Anny, I suddenly really want some apple juice. You know I always crave apple juice when I’m nervous. Can you please get me a glass?”

“Apple juice?” Anny echoed, taken aback. “Oh, I’ll see what I can do. But you have to promise me, after the apple juice, you’ll go out there, take the photos, and be the beautiful bride you are, okay?”

“Do I have a choice?” Weiwei muttered, her voice laced with bitterness.

Anny smiled, though her heart ached for her friend. “Alright then, I’ll go get the apple juice. Wait here for me!”

With that, Anny hurried out of the bridal suite, her mind racing. Where on earth could she find apple juice at this time?

“Supermarket? No, I don’t have any money on me! Wedding hall? Definitely not, they won’t have it now! The bar? Yes, I’ll ask the waiter to get a glass!” she thought, her heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor as she made her way to the hotel’s bar in the lobby.

As she rounded a corner near the elevator, she brushed past someone, the brief contact sending a strange sensation through her. But Anny was too focused on her mission to dwell on it. She reached the bar, flagged down a waiter, and urgently requested a glass of apple juice.

A few minutes later, the waiter followed her back to the bridal suite on the 56th floor, carrying the glass of juice on a silver tray. Anny thanked him and opened the door to the suite, only to freeze in shock.

The room was empty.

Weiwei was gone. Her wedding dress was discarded carelessly on the sofa, and in its place lay a note with two hastily scribbled lines:

“Anny, I’m sorry. I’ve left. He loves me, he came to get me. Please tell my father I’m sorry. For love, I’ve decided to be a bad daughter this time. Wish me luck!”

Anny stood there, stunned, the glass of apple juice trembling in her hand.

Runaway? WHAT? Oh my God! What should I do? Yaya hurriedly grabbed the note and rushed to the guest lounge to find Weiwei’s father.

She burst through the door, finding only two people in the room. Weiwei’s father was in the middle of a conversation with someone. The situation was urgent, so Yaya didn’t bother with pleasantries and blurted out, “Uncle, there’s a problem, the…”

But before she could finish, the person who had been facing away from the door stopped mid-conversation and turned around, cutting off Yaya's words. Dressed in a white suit with a peculiar slicked-back hairstyle, wasn’t this… Weiwei’s groom?

“Yaya, what’s wrong?”

“Uh… It’s nothing serious. Uncle, could you… step outside for a moment?”

“Is Weiwei throwing another tantrum? That girl… Oh, it’s fine, let her be. Don’t pay any attention to her. Yingli, Weiwei has been spoiled by me, so you may have to teach her a lesson in the future.”

Listening to the overly polite and somewhat p