Chapter 6 - THE CEREMONY
The wedding ceremony proceeded precisely as planned.
Madame Dubois spoke beautifully about love, commitment, and the blending of two lives. The sun shone bright, the sea breeze carried the scent of salt through the garden, and the cello played softly in the background during the ring exchange.
Throughout the entire thirty-five minutes, Olivia did not make a single sound.
She didn't drop a pencil. She didn't wiggle. She didn't whine. She sat beside me, occasionally pointing quietly at a bird in the tree or holding up her colored page for me to see, which I acknowledged with a gentle kiss on her head.
Beside us, however, my brother’s four-year-old son, Toby, was having a drastically different experience in the front row.
Ten minutes into the speeches, Toby decided he was done sitting still. He dropped his velvet ring pillow onto the grass. Then he began kicking the leg of my brother’s chair with his leather shoes—clack, clack, clack—a sound that echoed clearly across the quiet garden during Camille’s emotional vows.
"Toby, stop," my brother whispered loudly, trying to grab his ankle.
Toby let out a sharp, frustrated whine. "No! I want juice! I want my iPad!"
My mother frantically pulled a box of raisins from her purse, trying to bribe him into silence, but Toby shoved her hand away, spilling raisins across the white runner aisle.
Several guests in the middle rows turned their heads, clearing their throats politely. Madame Dubois had to raise her voice slightly to speak over Toby’s persistent, rhythmic complaining.
I sat in the back row, holding my daughter’s hand, watching the front row dissolve into chaotic, quiet desperation.
The irony was so thick you could taste it in the air.
The child who had been banned for fear of "noise and distraction" was sitting like an angel beneath a fig tree in the back. The child who had been exempted from all rules because he belonged to the preferred sibling was currently derailing the sacred solemnity of the vows.
Chloe, standing under the arch, kept her eyes glued forward, but I could see the muscle in her jaw pulsing violently every time Toby let out a whine.
When Madame Dubois finally pronounced them legally and emotionally bound in marriage, the applause was loud and enthusiastic.
"You may kiss the bride!"
Chloe and Camille kissed beneath the oak tree, ribbons were thrown, and the cello swelled into a joyful recessional march.
The couple turned and began walking back up the aisle, hand in hand, beaming for the photographer’s clicking camera.
As they reached the end of the aisle—right beside the back row where Olivia and I were standing quietly, clapping our hands—Chloe stopped.
She turned to face me.
In front of the photographer, in front of the local guests, in front of Camille’s family from Lyon, Chloe’s voice dripped with pure poison.
"I hope you're happy with yourself," she said, low enough that only I and Camille could hear. "You just had to prove a point, didn't you?"
I looked at my sister. Really looked at her.
"I didn't prove anything, Chloe," I said, my voice smooth as marble. "You did that all by yourself. Congratulations on your wedding. You look lovely."
Camille looked between us, her eyes wide with sudden realization. She looked down at Olivia, who was standing beside me holding her rabbit, then up at Chloe’s furious face.
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"Chloe..." Camille whispered, her voice laced with sudden shock and disappointment. "Is this... is this Clara's daughter? The one you said was staying with a babysitter because she was sick?"
The air in the garden instantly turned to ice.
