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I used to visit as often as I could, mourning my parents’ loss, but then it all had to stop. I had tried many times to gather the courage and ask my uncle to resume my church visits, but I never could speak my mind to him. Today, I was here though. After years and fidgeting behind the closed doors with my uncle beside me. I sensed he was restless, almost holding himself back from bouncing on his feet at the prospect of finally getting rid of me. I had already rubbed the sweat off my palms numerous times and yet I could feel them get clammy. There were so many things to fret about. The people around me, my expressions, my words, and the man I was going to wed. “Look casual, Gia.” My uncle said just as the doors started retreating into the shadows, exposing me. So I stayed calm, even when
- Writer
