GRAY

Part One | ROMAN GRAY | Weddings are weird. I mean, look at the beautiful bride and the gorgeous groom. They met. They fell inlove. They spent tonnes of money for a beach ceremony. They invited friends and family to witness their bliss. They signed a stupid piece of paper that legalised their union. It's happy ever after until they decide to divorce each other. Or kill each other. So, what's the point of weddings if it all ends in divorce or death? I've been alive long enough to know that there's no such thing as a happy-ever-after. That shìt only happens in fairytales. The most miserable people on earth are married people. Especially married women. But luckily for the beautiful bride, I'll save her from a life of misery. How? I will kill the groom. With his sweet suit and sunny smile, you wouldn't even guess the things he's capable of. "Waiter!" The event planner glares at me. "I'm not paying you to stand there and fùck the bride with your eyes. Do your fùcking job!" I was too busy watching the bride to notice I was being watched by the event planner. She's a tall and tough woman with a tough face. I quickly look away and start walking around the reception, serving drinks. Avoiding eye contact. I hate being watched. I hate being noticed. It's one of the reasons I love my job. It makes me feel invisible. It's time for the speeches. The guests are sitting on the little white chairs, sipping on a drink. They are all dressed in white dresses and white shorts. The waiters are standing at the back, white trays in their hands. They are also dressed in white. Everything is white. The groom stands to make a speech, a tall glass swirling in his hand. He must be melting in that white suit. With the scorching sun, it's a surprise he hasn't stripped it off yet. We're all dressed in white shorts except him. "I know it's not my turn to talk." The groom starts. "I should've said it all in my vows but I didn't. I'm sorry for... you know what? It's my wedding. I can do whatever the fùck I want. And I can talk whenever the fùck I want." The guests laugh. I don't laugh. None of the waiters laugh. "My doll." He turns to look at the bride. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. They say that people are not perfect. But you are perfect. No wonder you are a fùcking model." The guests laugh again. "But I'm standing here to tell everyone that you don't only have a beautiful face but you also have the biggest and most beautiful heart. I can't believe you are mine. I can't believe you are my fùcking wife. I had to pinch myself this morning to make sure this is not a dream. It still feels like a fùcking dream. Oh wait, let me pinch myself again." He pinches his cheek and that makes the guests laugh. This time, the waiters laugh. I still don't laugh. Maybe I don't have a sense of humour. Or maybe the guy is just not funny. "Doll." His smile grows bigger. "You are the woman of my dreams. I promise to make your life as beautiful and as dreamy as you make mine. Thankyou for being my wife. I love you, Dolly." No, he doesn't love her. A man like him is not capable of love. "A toast!" He raises his glass. "To the most beautiful bride!" The guests are giggling. Glasses are clinking. And the groom kisses his bride. As I watch them, I can't help but feel sorry for the bride. She doesn't know the monster that she just married. And that's the most dangerous thing about marriage... You really don't know who you are marrying. Most of you marry strangers. You share homes with them. Share meals with them. Share memories with them. Share beds with them. Share bloody babies with them. Only to find out later that they are a serial killer. Or a serial cannibal. The groom whispers something to the bride's ear. Lemme guess. He wants her to make a speech, proclaiming her love to him just so he doesn't look like the desperate one. She giggles nervously and takes a sip of her drink. She does everything so gracefully. Her smiling. Her giggling. Even her sipping. The groom was right. She's the most beautiful thing on the planet. Her long dark hair. Her big blue eyes. Her full red lips. She's tall and slim. The lacy white dress hugs her curves perfectly. She's perfect. It's no surprise that she's a model. A stunning successful model. I've seen her in a couple of pictures and billboards but she's ten times more beautiful in person. Shìt. There I go again, fùcking her with my eyes. But atleast this time, no one is watching me. Everyone is watching her. Probably blown away by her beauty. "Harvey." She starts her speech. "You keep saying that you are the luckiest man but I strongly disagree. I am the luckiest woman. I am the luckiest wife. Everyone says that I landed on a jackpot. I know that all my friends are secretly jealous of our relationship. My sister secretly wishes you were her husband. Sorry, Jeff." I break into a little laugh. The waiters laugh. The guests laugh. Everyone laughs. She's actually funny. "Honey." She continues. "You are the man of my dreams and I can't wait to do this life thing with you. I promise to be fun and freaky and -" The groom starts choking. The bride cups his face in her hands and looks at him in concern. "Babe, are you okay?" 'Babe' is not okay. His face is turning red. His eyes are rolling back. He drops his glass. He drops to his knees. He falls flat on the sand. Foam oozes from his mouth. The bride screams in terror. The guests gasp in horror. They leap out of their seats and scatter. Everyone is in sheer panic. I chug three glasses of wine and drop the tray, the drinks spilling on the sand. My job is done here. ***