Part 2The 519 Misprints

I stared at him.

"So she prints her name right next to yours on our wedding invitations, and you honestly believe she just 'has no filter'?"

Chloe dragged out a long, mocking laugh.

"Her?"

"Maya, Ethan and I have known each other for twenty years. You've only been with him for seven."

"If we're getting technical, aren't you the 'her' in this situation?"

The living room went dead silent for a fraction of a second.

Ethan frowned. "Chloe."

She immediately covered her mouth.

"Okay, okay, shutting up now."

But the arrogant, triumphant gleam in her eyes didn't dim for a single second.

I turned around and started shoving every single invitation back into the cardboard box.

Ethan slammed his hand down on the lid.

"What are you doing?"

"Returning them to the printer. To reprint them."

"I told you, there isn't enough time!"

"Then cancel the wedding."

Ethan's mother's voice instantly spiked an octave.

"Maya! Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"

I nodded.

"I do."

Ethan glared at me, the temperature in his eyes dropping below freezing.

"Over a typo on an invitation, you're going to cancel our wedding?"

I lowered my voice, correcting him.

"It's not a typo."

"It is 519 physical reminders."

Reminders that in this relationship, there will always, eternally, be someone who gets to cut the line and stand in front of me.

Chloe finally stopped smiling.

Ethan grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip and dragged me into his home office.

The second the door clicked shut, he lowered his voice into a furious whisper.

"Maya, do not make a massive, humiliating scene out of this."

"We already signed the marriage license. The ceremony is literally just the final formality."

I looked down at my wrist, already turning red under his fingers.

"Then we get a divorce."

Ethan's fingers violently tightened.

A sudden knock echoed from the hallway. Chloe's voice drifted through the wood.

"Ethan? Your parents want to know if we're still mailing these out."

"Also, do my parents still get one?"

Ethan didn't answer.

Chloe just pushed the door open herself, leaning halfway into the room.

She was still holding the invitation with her name on it, tapping her manicured nail directly over the Bride section.

"Maya, don't be so stubborn."

"Everyone has been breaking their backs for six months to put this together. You just saying 'cancel' is incredibly hurtful to everyone involved."

I looked at her.

"When you intentionally erased my name, were you worried about being hurtful?"

Chloe shrugged nonchalantly.

"Didn't I already say I'd pay for them?"

"It's just 520 pieces of paper. Name your price."

After she said it, she let out a bright, casual laugh, as if she had just remembered a funny detail.

"But honestly, that paper can't be that expensive, right? It's just textured cardstock. It's not like it's some ancient artifact."

I stared at her, my voice dead and hollow.

"That was the exact paper stock my father used in his studio."

Chloe's expression faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered her smile.

"Well, no wonder it looks so dated."

Ethan's voice was dark. "Chloe, get out."

Chloe stuck her tongue out playfully.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave the married couple to negotiate."

As she reached the door, she stopped and threw one last sentence over her shoulder.

"But Maya, a little advice? I wouldn't use the 'D-word' to threaten him."

"Ethan absolutely hates being backed into a corner."

"Back in college, his ex-girlfriend tried to give him an ultimatum about talking to me. He packed his bags that night and crashed on my couch for a month."

Ethan's face was livid.

"Are you done talking?"

She smiled and slipped out of the room.

We were the only two left in the office.

Ethan let go of my wrist, his tone softening slightly compared to his earlier fury.

"She doesn't know when to shut up. I'll make her apologize."

"But the wedding cannot be canceled."

I asked him: "Why not?"

"My parents' reputation, our corporate partners, our extended families—are you just going to completely disregard all of them?"

I see.

Everyone else's dignity and reputation mattered.

Only mine didn't.

He picked up one of the invitations off the desk and opened it.

Inside, printed in elegant script, was the phrase my father had written: "Giving away my daughter, praying she finds a strong branch to rest upon."

Ethan lowered his voice, weaponizing the memory against me.

"If your dad was still here, he wouldn't want you to back out right before you walk down the aisle."