"Congratulations, you finally married the right person."
At my wedding, he who had disappeared for three years sent me the most vicious blessing.
No one knows that this man who is now as cold as a knife was once the boy I picked up on a rainy night.
I taught him how to read, helped him read, and fell into a forbidden love with him.
Later, I pushed him away with my own hands and used a sum of money to buy him out.
Now he came back in a suit and tie, and the second before I put on my wedding ring, he announced in public:
"I am the little wolfdog she has raised for three years."
In the dead silence of the entire audience, he crushed my wrist bones and my hypocritical life.
It turns out that some wounds have never healed, just waiting for a prairie fire that will destroy them all.
