Anna-Gaelle’s desire for self-torture outweighed her sense of self-preservation as she sat in a quiet corner of the pews and watched the proceedings.
She braced herself and kept a stiff upper lip even as tears pooled at the back of her eyes and a lump formed in her throat.
She watched as they exchanged their vows, which sounded like a death knell to her heart.
The brush of their lips as they sealed the nuptials tugged at her in envy and sadness; sending the message that he could never be hers clearly across.
Blinded by tears that streamed unbidden down her face, she stepped out into the drizzle allowing her tears to mingle freely with the raindrops.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha