At the wedding toast, my parents had just lifted their cups when the cups burst open.

Red wine mixed with cream and chili water exploded all over them, straight in their faces.

My mother's newly bought formal dress was soaked through in an instant, greasy cream clinging to her hair.

My father instinctively reached to shield her, stepped on a shard of broken porcelain, and went down hard.

May Henson's male assistant, Colin Delgado, stood off to the side, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Wow! They look like two ridiculous fat water buffaloes!"

"That was a little touch I designed for your wedding. I didn't think the trick-cup would be so sensitive."

I was shaking with rage, and he only fanned the flames.

"The groom isn't allowed to get angry. They say online that if you keep it cool and easy, everything goes smoothly!"

May pressed down on my hand and murmured, frowning,

"Colin was just trying to warm up the room for you, out of kindness."

"Can't you see everyone's laughing and having a good time? Don't be so petty and ungrateful."

My mother wiped miserably at the cream on her face, her eyes red-rimmed, but she still forced a smile at me.

"Homer, we're fine."

"A wedding is a happy day. Don't fight over us."

In that moment, I looked at my parents standing there in ruins, still killing themselves to save face for May.

And it hit me how sickening and absurd this whole wedding was.

They couldn't bear to see me embarrassed.

But May could.

If that was how it was.

Then I wasn't going through with this marriage.

...

My father braced himself against the floor to stand, the blood on his palm smearing across the red carpet.

Colin frowned at once.

"Sir, don't move just yet."

"May had this carpet ordered specially from overseas. Blood is hard to get out."

Hearing that, my mother scrambled down and started scrubbing at the little smear of blood with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"We didn't mean to."

Colin looked down at them from above, his tone like a man tidying up the mess at a wedding.

"I did warn everyone earlier that the cups had a mechanism."

"Maybe sir and ma'am were too nervous to hear it."

The murmuring around us dropped low.

Someone laughed quietly.

"So he did warn them."

"The groom's parents have probably never seen anything like this. No wonder they couldn't keep up."

My fingertips went tight with anger.

"Colin Delgado, you—"

Before I could finish, May had already stepped in front of him.

"Colin already apologized."

"And your parents said they're fine."

She looked at me, her voice dropping low.

"Homer James, do you have to embarrass everyone at your own wedding?"

I stared at her, stunned.

My father's hand was still bleeding.

My mother's shoulders were shaking from the cold.

And all she cared about was Colin losing face.

My father, as if afraid I'd really lose it, quickly tugged at my sleeve.

"Homer, let it go."

"Your mom and I will go clean up. You get on with the wedding."

Colin jumped in at once.

"The lounge is packed with the Henson family relatives right now."

"Why don't sir and ma'am go handle it in the storage room in back?"

"There's a mop and rags over there."

"And be quick about it. Cream is a pain to clean once it drips on the floor."

My mother's face went white for a second, then she quickly lowered her head.

"Sorry to trouble you."

"We'll get it cleaned up."

She was the one who'd been humiliated.

Yet there she was, bowing the whole way and apologizing like she'd done something wrong.

I followed them toward the back.

The storage room was cramped.

As my mother went in, the hem of her dress caught on a metal rack and tore open in a long slit.

She hurriedly pressed it down with her hand.

"It's fine."

"The wedding lights are dim anyway. No one will see."

She opened her bag. Inside lay a new shawl, folded up neat and square.

"I was going to put it on when we went up onstage."

"I was afraid I'd look shabby and embarrass you."

The shawl was soaked at one corner with wine.

Still, she kept dabbing at it, bit by bit, with a tissue.

When it wouldn't come clean, she just folded the dirty part inward.

My father took a cash envelope out of his coat too.

The envelope had been soaked through and gone crumpled, its corners already soft.

He kept his head down, wiping at it for a long time, his voice low.

"This is the gift money your mom and I set aside for our new daughter-in-law."

"We wanted to give it to her properly."

"And now it's turned out like this."

When he finished, he gave an embarrassed little smile.

"Homer, don't hold it against us."

Something jammed in my throat.

They'd spent so long preparing for this wedding.

Afraid they wouldn't be dressed well enough.

Afraid they'd get some courtesy wrong.

Afraid I wouldn't be able to hold my head up in front of the Hensons.

And what May Henson gave them was wine and cream all over their clothes, the guests' laughter, and a corner crammed with junk.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

A message from May.

"Come out once you've cleaned up."

"Colin was just having a little fun with your parents. Don't overreact. It's a small thing."

I looked at that line of text, and I laughed.

A small thing.

So in her eyes, my parents' humiliation, the blood on my father's hand, the dress she ruined on my mother, were all just small things she could wave away.

I helped my parents sit down.

"Dad, Mom."

"Wait here for me a minute."

Then I turned and walked out of the storage room.

At the end of the hallway, the wedding planner was waiting for me, anxious.

"Sir, are we still going ahead with the program?"

I looked at the harsh lights in the hall.

May stood at the end of the aisle, murmuring to Colin, soothing him.

I turned my eyes away and spoke calmly.

"Go ahead."

The planner let out a breath.

But I went on:

"Just change one thing in the program."

"Skip the wedding toast."

"After this, it becomes a broken engagement."

When I got back to the storage room, my father was sitting beside the cardboard boxes, the blood on his knee still not stopped.

Seeing me come in, his first instinct was to stand up.

"Homer, are they rushing us out there?"

"Your mom and I will be ready in a second."

I pressed him back down.

"Don't move."

My mother looked up at me, her eyes red, and still she was smiling.

"Don't you worry."

"A wipe and this dress is still wearable."

She glanced down at the hem, where the wine had bloomed and spread, then hurried to tuck the stained part behind her.

"When we go up, I'll stand off to the side."

"The cameras won't catch it."

Even now, they were still thinking about how not to embarrass me.

Footsteps came from the doorway.

May stood outside, frowning as she took in the mess in the storage room.

"Still not done cleaning up?"

"The ceremony time's almost here."

"If it's really too inconvenient for your parents, maybe they shouldn't go up after all."

She paused, her tone like she was talking it over.

"The way she looks won't come across well on camera anyway."

The smile froze on my mother's face.

In that instant, she looked down at her dress without thinking.

As if she'd only just realized how wretched she looked right now.

My father spoke up quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right."

"We don't have to go up, it's fine."

"As long as your wedding goes off smoothly."

I looked at May, and all at once the person in front of me felt like a total stranger.

She used to say she'd treat my parents as her own and honor them like a daughter.

But now that they were hurt and humiliated, all she disliked was how badly they'd come across on camera.

Colin came in soon after.

He came in with a set of clothes in his arms, his expression already smoothed back to normal.

"Ma'am, I found you something clean to wear."

"Why don't you change into it first."

He said it so considerately.

But when the clothes unfolded, the color drained from my mother's face.

It was a black uniform skirt-set from the hotel's housekeeping department.

The fabric was stiff, the hem still creased.

Right at the chest, there was even an employee name tag that hadn't been taken off.

Colin acted as if he hadn't noticed any of it, his tone mild.

"It'll do for now, ma'am."

"This one's dark, so any stains won't show."

"Anyway, they'll mostly be filming the couple later. They won't get a clear shot of you."

My mother held the clothes, her fingers slowly tightening around them.

The formal dress she'd worn today, she'd bought two months in advance.

To save money, she'd gone a whole month without buying a single fresh dish for the table.

Every night she tried it on in front of the mirror.

Trying it on, she kept asking me:

"Homer, does your mother look too bright in this?"

"Will I not look as presentable as your city in-laws?"

I'd laughed at her then.

"Mom, you look the best."

She'd been so happy the corners of her eyes crinkled up.

But now, holding an old hotel uniform, she said in a low voice:

"All right."

"As long as I can wear it."

May, though, looked as if she could finally breathe again.

"Colin thinks of everything."

Then she turned to me.

"And stop scowling."

"You snapped at him in front of everyone just now. You embarrassed him."

"When we go out there, give him a way to save face."

Colin dropped his eyes, his voice neither high nor low.

"May, don't push Homer."

"He's always had a problem with me. I know that."

"I only wanted to help you pull off the wedding."

May softened at once.

"I know."

"None of this is your fault."

Standing off to the side, I suddenly felt too tired even to sneer.

My mother lowered her head and said nothing.

But I saw her tears fall onto that black skirt-set.

The stiff fabric drank them up almost at once.

Not even a mark left behind.

A strange calm settled over me.

So from the very start, my parents had never been taken seriously at this wedding.

I took out my phone and sent the wedding planner a message.

"Don't wait on the program."

"When the ceremony starts, put out what I gave you."

The reply came quickly:

"You're sure?"

I looked at May's back as she murmured to Colin.

Then at my parents' eyes, red from holding everything in.

Slowly, I typed two words.

"I'm sure."

When I came back to the hall, Colin was sitting beside the groom's lounge area.

He held a cup of warm water in his hands.

May stood in front of him, straightening the cuff links the crowd had knocked askew.

"Don't take it to heart."

"None of today is your fault."

On the table beside them sat the first-aid kit.

My father still had shards of porcelain lodged in his palm.

The blood on his knee hadn't stopped either.

But that first-aid kit was never once carried over to the storage room for him.

Colin only had to frown.

And May got as anxious as if he'd been done some terrible wrong.

Standing a little way off, I suddenly thought back to many years ago.

The night of the company's annual party, I was running a high fever, waiting outside the hotel for May to come pick me up.

She'd said she'd come as soon as the meeting ended.

But I waited until the early hours, and all I got was one line from her:

"Colin took the drinks for me and his stomach's hurting badly."

"I'm taking him to the hospital first."

Back then the fever had me so weak I could barely stand.

And still I replied: