Lawrence on the third row was perplexed, staring at Yanarym. She was walking in the aisle at a slow pace. It feels so magical seeing her in that white dress. She's so gorgeous… but it was not him that was waiting for her at the end of the hall. He inhaled sharply as it was getting hard to breathe.
Possibilities and what-ifs ran through his head, questions, and scenarios that he imagined if she would be marrying him. He slowly directed his sight to Movu. That bastard.
The bastard was starting to cry while smiling, he must be the happiest person alive at this very moment. Lawrence bit his lips until he tasted the rustic flavor of his blood.
He held his gun tightly that was hiding in his tuxedo, he wanted to pull it out and just shoot Movu's head. If Movu dies, Yanarym would only have an option to be with him… right?
Yanarym reached Movu's hand, and the four of them faced the priest.
