Chapter 77
HAZEL
FOUR YEARS AGO
WEDDING DAY
Adding extra words, extensively rewrite the material provided using better narratives.
The bridal shower was so much fun. Elenor and her friends really did make it memorable for me. The gifts, the music, the fun, everything was just to my liking. Anne did show up with the gift she promised and surprisingly also came along with extra bag containing her dress for the wedding.
When Elenor asked her about it, she said she’ll be dressing from the penthouse to the cathedral.
Personally, I didn’t see anything wrong with that, but Elenor smelt conspiracy.
Anne tried her best to party with us, to have fun with the girls and blend in, but she eventually grew tired and tired early to bed.
As I sat in the midst of my makeup session, Elenor’s voice echoed from the doorway, calling my name. I motioned to the makeup artist to pause for a moment, turning my attention to Elenor. “Hazel,” she called out, “the photographer would like to take a picture of the wedding gown. Should I bring it into this room, or would you prefer he does it in the other room?”
Realizing that I wasn’t fully dressed yet, I quickly replied, “I think it’s best if he takes the picture in the other room.” I adjusted my posture, allowing the makeup artist to continue her work without interruption.
“Alright,” Elenor acknowledged, softly closing the door behind her as she departed. However, it was a mere matter of minutes before she returned to the room, her expression now filled with panic, adding an unexpected twist to the day.
The makeup artist was the first to notice Elenor’s distress, and with genuine concern, she inquired, “Is everything alright?” Her question drew my attention away from the makeup artist’s final touches, directing my gaze toward Elenor.
When Elenor remained unresponsive to the query, I withdrew from the makeup artist’s chair, trying my best to quell any thoughts of impending disaster. After all, it was my wedding day, and optimism should have been the order of the day.
“Elenor?” I stood up gradually, attempting to keep my voice steady as I pressed for answers. “What’s happening?”
Elenor cleared her throat nervously, her eyes welling up with tears. “I, uh… I went into the room where the wedding gown was stored for the photographer, but what I found in there was nothing short of a disaster.”
My heart raced at her words. “Nothing short of a what?” I demanded, my apprehension growing by the second. This was my wedding day, and the last thing I needed was an unforeseen catastrophe. “What the heck are you saying Elenor?”
The makeup artist intervened firmly, clearing her throat as she addressed the situation. “I strongly suggest you share what’s wrong so we can address it swiftly and continue with the makeup. Time is running out.”
Elenor’s response was a forceful one. “Bring it in!” she exclaimed, prompting the door to swing open, revealing three of her friends carrying in what should have been my pristine wedding gown. However, it had been reduced to a chaotic jumble of pieces. My heart sank.
“It was on the floor when I entered the room,” Elenor explained, her voice heavy with distress, “with the pieces all over the place.”
My eyes darted around the room, my voice trembling as I inquired, “With the pieces sca ttered where?” Panic threatened to undo my carefully applied makeup as I stumbled over to the ruined wedding dress, which now lay forlorn on the bed. Emotions swirled inside me, and tears began to roll down my cheeks, already smudging my makeup. My gaze shifted tearfully between everyone in the room, and I couldn’t contain my anguish any longer.
“Which of you,” I choked out, anger and despair mingling in my voice, “did this?!”
Elenor’s voice was the first to break through the tension. “Hazel, please, I need you to stay calm. Identifying who’s
responsible for this can wait until after the wedding. Right now, we must focus on finding a replacement.”
As we discussed the pressing matter, the door swung open again, and Anne entered the room, surprisingly clad in a white knee-length dress. Who the heck wears white to a wedding? I couldn’t help but whisper in disbelief, “Did you do this, Anne? Did you ruin my wedding dress?”
Anne’s expression darkened, and she warned me in a hushed tone, “Be careful with your accusations, Hazel. We have an audience.”
Elenor scoffed at Anne’s response, her anger evident. “Adam, please escort everyone else out of this room,” she instructed, swiftly clearing the room of any potential eavesdroppers, leaving just the three of us inside.
Elenor didn’t hold back. “Anne, did you have a hand in this?” she demanded.
Anne shot back, her tone defensive, “You think I’m capable of such a thing?”
Elenor’s accusation was bold and direct. “I know you did, Mum,” she insisted, her frustration evident. “You’re wearing a white dress, a blatant sign that you still haven’t approved of this wedding. Who wears white to a wedding that isn’t theirs?”
Just as tensions peaked, the door swung open once more, and Ravel stormed into the room, accompanied by Raymond. I exchanged a quick glance with Elenor. “I called him here. Ravel always knows what to do.”
Ravel, disregarding everyone else, came straight to me and gently cupped my cheeks, wiping away my tears. Concern etched across his face, he asked, “What’s going on?” However, before I could respond, his expression changed to one of shock. “What the heck?” He moved past me, heading straight for the ruined gown. “What on earth happened here?”
“We found it like this just a few minutes ago,” Elenor explained, her voice filled with frustration.
Ravel returned to my side, his focus unwavering. “Baby, I’m going to need the number of your dressmaker.” Still in shock and pain, I reached for my phone, retrieved the number, and handed it over to him, desperate for a solution to this wedding day crisis.
Ravel dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, identifying himself as he spoke. “This is Ravel Southwark,” he said, his voice tense, his other hand gently rubbing my shoulder in a comforting gesture. “You were the one who created my wife’s dress, so I presume you have her measurements.” He paused briefly, listening intently to the response on the other end of the line. “If you can procure a replica of this dress from your store, another store, or anything similar within two hours, I won’t just write you a blank check; I’ll also arrange for an all-expenses-paid publicity campaign for your business.”
Another moment of silence followed as he awaited her reply. “You have precisely two hours,” he stated firmly before ending the call. Then, he tenderly wiped away the tears on my cheeks. “Why don’t you go freshen up your makeup while we wait for the dress?”
I sniffed, still overwhelmed with anxiety. “And what if it doesn’t arrive in time?” I couldn’t help but voice my fears, wedding day hanging in the balance.
my
He smiled. “It will. You are the only one who isn’t moved by an open cheque.” He gave Raymond a nod to go fetch the makeup artist.
“I think mum did this.” Elenor blurted out.
I watched Ravel’s fist clench as he glared at his mother. “Did you do this?” He growled, taking a menacing step towards her. “Did you ruin my wife’s wedding dress?”
Something in Ravel’s tone made her incapable of lying. “I couldn’t help but try my luck one last time son.”
“Try your luck?” Elenor asked with a scoff. “Just two days ago, you begged for her forgiveness, telling her that you’ve accepted the marriage, and last night, you were all smiley during the bridal shower. How vile can you be mum?!”
“Vile?!” She yelled, “You think I’m going to let my son marry a drug addict?!”
I froze and Ravel’s anger heightened. “I dare you to repeat that.” He dared her, his jaw as tight as a granite. “I dare you to call my wife a drug addict again.”
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“Stop calling her your wife,” she retorted. “You’re not married to her.”
“Mum! Please stop!” Elenor scolded. “Calling Hazel a drug addict is going too far!”
“You think I’m making it up?!” Anne retorted. “I looked into her past and found out that she abused drugs with her ex- boyfriend.”
Elenor glanced at me briefly before returning her gaze to Anne.
“You said she abused, mom, past tense; that makes her an ex-drug addict. Those sh it are in her past, why dig it up?”
The door opened and Raymond walked in with Marsha, my makeup artist. Ravel unclenched his fist. “Raymond, escort Mrs. Anne out of this building and make sure she isn’t anywhere close to the wedding and reception venue.”
“You’re kicking me out!” She yelled angrily.
“Ravel,” I called out softly, pinning Anne with my gaze. “I want her there. I want her to watch me get married to you.