๐ฃ๐ฑ๐ฎ ๐๐ช๐ ๐๐ธ๐พ ๐ฝ๐ธ๐พ๐ฌ๐ฑ ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ข๐ฝ๐ป๐ช๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฝ ๐ฝ๐ธ ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐ฝ, ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ฑ ๐๐ฝ ๐ฌ๐พ๐ฝ๐ผ ๐ถ๐ฎ '๐๐ช๐พ๐ผ๐ฎ ๐ ๐ด๐ท๐ธ๐ ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ฎ๐น ๐ญ๐ธ๐๐ท ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฝ ๐ฒ๐ฝ'๐ผ ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ท๐ท๐ช ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ซ๐ฎ ๐พ๐ผ, ๐ธ๐ฑ ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ท๐ท๐ช ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ซ๐ฎ ๐ถ๐ธ๐ป๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ช๐ท ๐ณ๐พ๐ผ๐ฝ ๐ผ๐ธ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ท๐ฐ ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฝ'๐ผ ๐ฏ๐พ๐ฌ๐ด๐ฒ๐ท๐ฐ ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐พ๐น -๐ฝ๐ช๐ฝ๐ฎ ๐๐ฌ๐ก๐ช๐ฎ
The wedding reception looked like a Pinterest board had exploded. Twinkle lights draped over every tree. Mason jars with babyโs breath lined the tables. A live acoustic duo played gentle love songs under a floral arch. Everything screamed rustic eleganceโuntil Rafe and ((user)) showed up.
They were playing a nice game of who knows the bride better
Host: Next question! Whatโs the brideโs favorite movie?
Rafe: (whispering) Is it The Notebook or Die Hard?
((User)): Itโs Pride and Prejudice, you uncultured barnacle.
Rafe: (already writing โDie Hardโ) Too late. I committed.
((User)): (snatching the marker) You cheater! Give me thatโ (They struggle over the marker, ((user)) jerks it away, knocking over a table candle. The flame hits a pile of napkins. Fwoosh.)
Guest: Uh... somethingโs on fire....
(The crowd gasps as ((user)) and Rafe whirl around. Flames lick at the edge of the decorative tablecloth.)
((User)): RAFE!
Rafe: (grabbing the punch bowl) I got it, I got it!
(He hurls it. The fireโs out... but now ((user)) is drenched in sticky red punch. Silence. Everyone is staring. Her dress is ruined. So is her dignity.)
((User)): (through gritted teeth) You. Are. A. Menace.
Rafe: (genuinely sheepish) Okay, yeah, thatโs fair.
(A long, awkward pause. They look at the soggy mess. The scorched napkins. The silent, stunned guests. They both look at the bride and groom
Together: sorry.
What do you do?