Bald Before the Altar

The bald head reflected in the mirror completely sent me over the edge. This was the sight that greeted me the morning before my wedding, as I woke from a deep sleep.

The culprit, Chelsea, was primping her eye-catching curly hair, sticking out her tongue and saying casually, Just a slip of the hand, no hard feelings, right, Lena?

She even exaggeratedly covered her mouth. "Oh no, poor Lena! The brides going to be bald!"

But Roman acted as if nothing had happened, reaching out to playfully tap her nose, laughing it off. "Just wear a wig, problem solved."

He even twisted the knife. "Itll all be the same under the veil, anyway. And honestly, you look so much better than her."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Everyone stared at me, the soon-to-be bride, waiting for me to go ballistic like I usually would.

But then I smiled, calmly slipping the diamond ring off my ring finger.

I pressed the ring into Chelsea's hand, watching her stunned expression. "Save everyone the trouble. You can be the bride. After all, under a veil, who can tell the difference?"

Only later did I learn that Roman had put sleeping pills in my milk before I went to bed, allowing his childhood friend to commit this cruel act.

1.

My unexpected magnanimity caught everyone off guard.

"I just wanted to help you with a new hairstyle, Lena, but my hand slipped Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

Chelsea flung herself into Romans arms, her eyes glistening with tears as she looked at me.

The others present exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them, clearly uncomfortable, forced himself to smooth things over. "You've got it all wrong, Lena. We're all friends with Chelsea and Roman. But you're his one and only bride."

Roman finally caught on and chimed in defensively, "Chelsea just has a playful personality, she didn't mean any harm."

Shaving the bride's head the day before the wedding.

Mouth full of apologies, yet not forgetting to snap grinning photos of my "ugly state" for keepsakes.

Every single detail screamed malice. How was that "no harm"?

What a flimsy excuse.

I met Romans protective gaze with a mocking smile. "What if she gets another playful whim and decides she wants to be the bride? Maybe I should just graciously step aside now."

Romans face darkened instantly, his expression stormy enough to wring water from. "Lena, have you made enough of a scene?"

"Chelsea just has the personality of a child, she's mischievous and playful. Do you really have to hold it against a kid?"

At his words, everyone present fell into an awkward silence again.

Not only was I half a year younger than Chelsea, but even if she were a child, no child would do something as absurd as shaving the bride's head the day before the wedding!

I watched, stone-faced, as Roman shielded Chelsea behind him.

So cautiously, so meticulously.

Yet once upon a time, I was the one he protected.

"Lena, I was wrong. Please don't blame Roman. If you're really angry, just hit me or scold me, I won't fight back!"

Chelsea peeked out from behind Roman, timidly looking at me.

She furrowed her brows, looking fragile and vulnerable.

But her eyes held a blatant challenge.

Romans features softened. "How could this be your fault? I gave you the sleeping pills, so I'm the one to blame."

"Don't mind her. It's all my fault for spoiling her, letting her get out of hand and throw tantrums over every little thing!"

A knot of anger tightened in my chest.

Roman once promised hed protect me forever.

He said I could be wild and free, never suffer any wrong.

Now, Chelsea was clearly the one in the wrong.

But in his words, I was making a scene.

He murmured soft reassurances to Chelsea.

The thick, intertwining love in his eyes was something I had never received.

I watched the scene with self-mockery.

In the past, I would have torn the place apart, demanding justice for myself.

But now, I felt nothing.

In this relationship, I had already lost everything.

2.

Roman himself has probably forgotten.

He was the one who pursued me, who first confessed his feelings.

We met through a blind date, and quickly discovered we shared many interests.

Roman was handsome, refined, and articulate; it was hard not to fall for him.

So, we naturally became a couple.

He would send me good morning and goodnight texts every day, lovingly bring me hot ginger tea during my period, and never skimped on surprise flower bouquets for every occasion.

Back then, I thought I would be the happiest person in the world.

That was until Chelsea, Romans childhood friend, returned from abroad as we began discussing marriage.

The usually calm and composed Roman seemed to transform into a different person.

All the tenderness he once showed me was now showered upon Chelsea.

He stopped chatting with me about daily happenings and interesting things, instead staying up late to hike and watch the sunrise with Chelsea.

When I was sick with a high fever, he was busy at a concert with Chelsea.

He even forgot my birthday.

He was too preoccupied helping Chelsea deliver her puppy, leaving me alone in a restaurant.

It was from that day on that I never received flowers from Roman again.

All because Chelsea was allergic to pollen.

"Chelsea would be jealous and unhappy if she knew. I don't want to make her sad!"

For the past six months, we had countless arguments over this.

Each time, Roman would confidently declare:

"I only treat Chelsea like a sister; why do you have to be so jealous and possessive?"

"The fact that I can openly mention her proves there's nothing going on between us!"

I, his fiance, was always the discarded option.

I finally saw things clearly.

Love can't be hidden, and neither can the lack of it.

Roman, he might never have loved me.

And I, who so desperately wanted a future with him, was nothing but a pathetic joke.

3.

Chelsea pouted, claiming she wanted to apologize to me.

"Lena, I really didn't mean to humiliate you. I'll even cut my own hair as an apology."

Her eyes were red, her expression sincere.

I chuckled softly. "Alright, then go ahead."

Chelsea's expression froze instantly.

"As long as you don't fight with Roman and hurt your relationship because of me, I'll do anything"

She looked on the verge of tears.

Yet the scissors in her hand remained still.

Her pitiful demeanor clearly tugged at Romans heartstrings.

He immediately shot me a glare, as if I were a mortal enemy. "Lena, whatever your issue is, take it out on me!"

"Chelsea is my sister; we grew up together. Are you, as my partner, deliberately trying to embarrass her?"

I stopped abruptly, a faint pang of pain in my chest.

Sure enough, Chelsea was his eternal favorite, the one he would always protect.

I forced a bitter smile and stood up to leave.

From behind me, Romans angry voice cut through the air. "It's just a bit of hair! If you want to storm off, go ahead, no one's putting up with your crappy attitude!"

Hed forgotten, apparently.

Before I met Roman, Id always kept my hair in a neat, short style.

It was his casual remark, "I want to see you walk down the aisle with long, flowing hair," that changed everything.

I had grown out my hair, meticulously caring for it, wanting to look my absolute best when I married him.

Now, it was all ruined.

Laughter and joyous chatter drifted through the closed door.

I should have been crying in pain, feeling depressed and shattered.

Like countless times before, when Romans coldness had left me choking with agony, trembling and unable to breathe.

But now, I felt not a speck of sadness.

I raised a hand to my face, but there was no coldness, no tears.

And in that moment, I was finally freed from this self-made prison of a relationship.

I pulled out my phone, intending to call a cab home.

But then I saw a message from my professor.

Once again, he was trying to persuade me to join the national scientific expedition team.

I'd actually received this invitation last year.

But I'd turned it down.

Because joining meant at least three years of constant travel, and I couldn't bear to be apart from Roman.

When he learned my reason, my professor had been furious. "Men won't be moved by you giving up your career for them, Lena. They'll just think you're easier to manipulate! You'll regret it!"

At the time, I was confident in my choice.

I believed in Romans love, and all I wanted was a simple, happy life with him.

Who knew his words would prove prophetic, leaving me utterly humiliated?

So this time, I wouldn't make the wrong choice again.

When my professor on the other end of the line heard I'd agreed to join the expedition team, he immediately sent over the relevant documents.

He even called specifically to remind me to expedite the paperwork. "The expedition team is officially departing in half a month. Will you have enough time for everything?"

I smiled into the phone. "I won't hold up the main group."

That was enough time to cancel a wedding.

4.

I spent the entire night preparing documents and paperwork.

I was so focused that I didn't even notice when Roman came home.

It wasn't until he stood in front of me that I looked up at him briefly.

Then I quickly lowered my head and continued with my work.

Romans face instantly turned cold. "Lena!"

Before, when he came home, I would rush to him immediately.

But this time, I just kept typing away.

He assumed I was deliberately giving him the cold shoulder, his expression hardening.

I didn't stop what I was doing, offering a perfunctory reply. "Oh, you're back."

Roman was momentarily stunned.

He had never been treated so coldly by me, and his expression quickly turned to anger.

I didn't understand why he was mad.

Was it because I wasn't questioning him about his late return, or throwing a tantrum like before?

"Lena, why do you have to be so petty? It was just a bit of hair shaved off, why are you still clinging to such a small matter."

I was scolded without reason.

In the past, I would have argued with Roman.

But now, I just smiled softly. "You've got it wrong. I'm not angry, I'm just busy with work."

Roman's unfinished words were cut off by my reply.

He pursed his lips and, for once, offered an explanation. "I was a bit late because I had to take Chelsea home. She was drunk, and it's not safe for a girl to be out alone at night. Don't be silly and get jealous."

I frowned, looking at Roman.

"Im genuinely not angry, and you dont need to explain it to me."

Roman froze for a moment.

"You you're really not angry?"

I chuckled softly. "You two are childhood friends; it's normal to help each other out."

For a split second, a rare look of confusion crossed Romans face.

But I didn't pay much attention.

I walked straight past Roman.

Just as I reached the study door, Romans angry voice rang out behind me.

"Lena, what are you doing?"

"I've been trying to explain nicely, and you're still throwing a fit!"

I looked back at him, utterly bewildered. "What did I do now?"

I just wanted to go into the study to grab some documents.

But Roman seemed absolutely furious.

"Lena, I thought you had really changed your ways. It seems I misjudged you!"

"You stay home and reflect properly. Until you admit your mistakes, don't even think about marrying me!"

There wouldn't be a wedding.

I couldn't count how many times Roman and I had planned a wedding.

Yet it never successfully took place.

The first time, on the eve of the wedding, Chelsea burned her hand. Roman, in his haste to care for her, canceled the wedding without a second thought.

The second time, Chelsea deliberately fed me a cake laced with mango, causing me to have an allergic reaction and collapse, throwing the entire ceremony into chaos.

The third time, Chelsea "accidentally" shredded my wedding dress again, forcing another delay

In the end.

I was completely numb.

So when Roman mentioned the wedding again this time, I instinctively didn't book a venue or inform any friends or family.

Sure enough, my choice was correct.

Roman sneered now, but didn't leave.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that he slammed the front door shut and stormed out.

I knew why he was angry.

He had offered an olive branch, a rare thing.

And I hadn't taken it.

I smiled calmly.

After organizing all the documents, I prepared to send them to my professor for confirmation.

I accidentally slipped and scrolled into Chelseas social media feed.

Just moments ago, she had updated her status.

The video showed Chelsea straddling Romans lap, their postures intimate, as they drank linked arms.

Her red lips were just inches from Romans.

The caption read:

"Drink my wine, and you're mine."

Below, Roman had "liked" it.

Their mutual friends were even cheering them on with congratulatory messages.

At that moment, I felt like an objective observer, surprisingly calm.

I lightly tapped the screen, offering a sincere wish: "Remember to save me a seat at the wedding banquet."