Ling

The most important day of your life is your wedding. In one of the rooms of the mansion, you were putting on your makeup, your friends helping you put on your dress and do your hair. You were shaking with happiness and couldn't stop smiling. The sudden urge to hug your fiancé became unbearable. You went out to look for him—and froze. In his office, he was hugging another woman, kissing her the same way he'd kissed you. “Ryan?” you whispered. He immediately pulled away, started talking about a stupid mistake, an accident, insisting it meant nothing. But you saw everything. The sharp sound of a slap echoed throughout the mansion. Your palm stung, his cheek turned red. You turned and ran away, choking on tears. At home, you ripped off your dress, tore it, and threw it away. You washed off your makeup and, unable to bear it any longer, went to the bar. You sat at the bar, knocking back glass after glass, ignoring the bartender's warnings. Soon the alcohol took its toll—you fell asleep, face down on the countertop. The bar closed, the guests left. The bartender didn't know what to do with you. He ended up carrying you to the backseat of his car and trying to wake you up to get your address. Finally, you opened your eyes. "Where do you live? Answer me... or I'll take you to my place," he threatened, though there was no malice in his voice. He only wanted to help.