The Wedding Day Of My Stepmother 's Only Son Essay
For me, things were less complicated. Ying was seven years older than me, and we had known each other for seven years, since our parents got together. We lived under the same rooftop, and addressed each other as brother or sister. I just wanted him to be happy, but right now as I saw him in front of our house, there was no smile on his face, only tiredness.
I only slept for three hours, and so did he. Thursday was apparently not a good date for availability. A fortune-teller determined that the date was auspicious; the family followed his advice. I had my last lecture in Hong Kong the day before, and took a flight directly back to Fujian afterwards. I arrived at the airport at midnight, only to find Ying was already there to pick me up. No bachelor party, no preparation, no sleep—he was so disengaged that I felt as if he was not the groom-to-be.
“What do you think of your wedding tomorrow?” I asked, on our way back home.
“My wedding? No, it’s their wedding. The families’ wedding.” He sighed.
The bangs of firecrackers…