The moment our wedding invitations were torn to shreds, we began the longest argument of our lives.
He said, “Wedding gifts are debts between friends that have been building for years. If we don’t hold a wedding, how am I supposed to face our friends and relatives?”
I said, “Marriage is between the two of us. Why spend money and suffer just to please people who don’t matter?”
His parents insisted that “a new bride must serve tea and formally meet the family,” while my mother only asked, “Who’s going to support me in my old age?”
The night before the wedding, he said drunkenly, “Other people marry a wife. How did I end up marrying a queen?”
I took off the ring he’d given me. “What do you really love, tradition and appearances, or me?”
In the end, we reached an agreement: we wouldn’t hold a wedding, but we would throw a charity crowdfunding party instead.
Standing outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, he asked, “The certificate… are we still getting it?” I smiled and turned to walk away with him.
