My Bride Is A Bandit Chinese Drama

A dream wedding, a white and illuminated church, full seats, and television news cameras; I was the bride; I wore a white dress with rhinestones; it seemed strange that my groom did not arrive; perhaps it was a Sicilian custom; perhaps it was my freckles? I don't think so because my many suitors have praised them along with my honey-colored eyes, my brown hair, and my toned body. Although I am not very tall, I am not small either. I have come to the conclusion that I am a Colombian beauty, a bombshell, which means that I would not because I am ugly.

The orchestra of the moment kept playing their repertoire; they already felt forced. I calmed down, thinking that they wanted to avoid their most successful song, which talks about heartbreak. I felt that the bouquet was getting heavier, and the heels, those heels that I chose to try to surpass, wanting to eclipse him somehow, now charged rent to my feet.

Furthermore, I look at the door, wanting a whirlwind to come in and take me to Oz or somewhere; possibly this cretin had the same idea as me: run out Before the wedding, and if I execute it,

The priest looks at me in silence, like everyone else. Although I hear murmurs, I only see long faces and closed mouths. It already looks like a funeral. I don't know what to do. Perhaps if I drink the wine to consecrate it and start dancing in the holy water fountain, I will draw some smiles from the guests. That would be better than stopping my crying.

I can't believe I'm looking at the door; it looks like a painting by some surrealist painters. An elegant car arrives, comes fast, and suddenly breaks. I hope it's him; by God, it's him. I can't focus well; the tears in my eyes distort me. It's a man dressed in black. I feel like fainting.

 As I regain consciousness, I see everyone around me, I look for the one who came in asking,

“Who came in? Is it Angelo?”

“It was me, Mrs. Ximena; I am Mr. Angelo's lawyer. I brought you some documents.” He takes some documents out of a briefcase and says to me,

“These are the prenuptial agreements; I'm sorry I didn't square this before; also, a marriage certificate duly filled out; besides, he sends you a thousand apologies for not showing up for the marriage.”

“No, this is unfair; what a lack of seriousness! Why are you doing this to me?” I exploded furiously, throwing the documents.

My parents hug me, trying to minimize my crying, while the lawyer angrily shouts,

“I'm not to blame; who knows what you would do? You must be bad for...”

“Shut your mouth, you piece of garbage; the poor girl is right; Angelo will listen to me.” Don Joseph, the grandfather of the groom that everyone respected to a point of veneration, seemed to have magical powers because the face of the shoddy lawyer went from being red with exaltation to whitish with fear and he answered,

“A thousand pardons, I got carried away; the truth is, I am also very stressed with this matter; I don't understand Angelo's reasons for acting this way; I ask you to please excuse me; I am just another servant; I came prepared for this; and I brought more copies just in case.”