https://penastory.com/2016/12/08/white-dress/

They danced with frantic movements. Everywhere looked confused, rough. Upturned tables and drunk guests. Even though some sat down, it still looked disorganised as the loud deafening sound of fuji music blasted through the speakers situated at specific corners. Even the tables were coloured white, the whole ceremony took on a white colour so it was a wonder why something that looked so serene and pure would be so scattered. There was no sign of the ushers or servers. If they were there, they had melted into the crowd as everyone was either drunk or engrossed in the merriment to notice anything.

The contorted face of the bride as she watched the crowd and looked at her husband to be was one of horror and puzzlement. He was drunk, she looked at him. He had filled himself with drink on the very day he had to be conscious of everything he would do. Did he not want to marry her? He had filled himself with drink so he will not remember this moment or he would only recollect it in a haze. Even the people only came to merry and were not interested in the undertones of tension that sweltered between the family of the bride and the groom. Each family sat apart like there was a visible division between them, a division of affluence and poverty. It was not surprising that the master of ceremony would only pay attention to the bride’s family who in turn showed their monetary capability to the detriment of the groom’s family who just sat on their segregated seats like defeated dogs.

He would not take it lightly with her he had decided. If she will disgrace his family because they were not rich like her family then he will get back at her in the only way he could; through the marriage ceremony. Her elder sister who had sponsored the marriage was the worst. She controlled everything even those who were to be given special treatment by the servers, neglecting his family. He had seen the scorn on her face when she looked at him that morning, like a smear of filth on her sisters white wedding dress. If only she would leave all of them for him. That’s what marriage is all about, isn’t it, either him or her family with their money?

The M.C had called the bride and groom to the dance floor. You could see them hold each other like two wrestlers locked in an embrace of battle. She turned her nose when she smelt his drunk breath. Telling him how he had gotten drunk again on a day supposed to be happiest day of her life. And how he replied with how she was oppressing his family, how they neglected them, pointing to his father who was sitting on a plastic chair, his head full of white hair bent low staring into space. His other relatives sat behind and watched with forlorn faces.

She had wanted to tell him after the whole ceremony, when they were alone together, away from the external world of her aunt and her oppressive tendencies. She could not say she had not noticed it but what could she do? Her aunt never supported their relationship. She could leave her aunt, he thought. She looked pretty even with her sad face, tears filled eyes and ruined make-up. Even in his drunken state he still knew he loved her. He asked her she would have to choose which side she wanted to stay on, her aunt’s or his? It would never work without clarifying that.

It was like they were alone now. They didn’t even dance to the music, rather they whispered into each other’s ears as they held themselves with as everyone watching them. It was no longer the grip of two people who wanted to get in a fight, it was the grip of two people who didn’t want to let go. Something had changed about them. She told him she was pregnant, she didn’t have a choice now did she, as she smiled at his astonished face. There was some glimmer of hope for them after all. Her dress looked whiter than before as he placed his hand on her stomach.

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