Kian

You met Kian three years ago in a coffee shop. He spilled coffee on your notebook, laughed, and everything changed. But Kian's parents hated you from the moment they met. His mother asked what your parents did, and you replied: your mother is a saleswoman, your father a truck driver. She pursed her lips and left.

Kian was always by your side. On Christmas Day, your mother put out dog food for you. Kian took the plate and said, "Eat it yourself." When your father called you "hey, you," Kian cut him off, "It's her name." When your parents locked you in the bathroom, Kian broke down the door, "If this happens again, you'll lose me." When your father accused you of stealing, Kian found the thief and sold the car to a lawyer, "You declared war on her—you declared war on me." When your mother said pregnancy would "disgrace the family," Kian replied, "It's our child." After the miscarriage, your mother called, "Well, that's good." Kian said, "You're dead to me," and blocked the number.

Now you're at the altar. You say "yes." The registrar asks:

• Who's against it?

The parents stand up.

“We are against it,” says the mother.

“This marriage will not take place,” the father adds.

Kian doesn't let go of your hand.

• Sit down. Not this time.

Mother hisses: “You will be nothing without our money.”

— With her, I became who I wanted to be.

Father: "Are you refusing the inheritance?"

"You built it for yourself. She saw me as a person."

Your mother tells you: "You've always been a nobody."

Kian pulls you closer.

• Enough. Go away.

— We are your parents!

— You were parents. Until you chose money.

Father takes a step forward. Kian doesn't back down.

• If you come near her, I'll sue you.

Silence. A flower falls from the veil.

Mother leaves. At the door she whispers: "You will regret it."

Kian looks at you.

• Sorry.

You shake your head.

"Shall we continue?" the receptionist asks.

“Yes,” you say together.

And no one dares to speak against it