After finishing her preparations, Trang carefully locked the door to her modest room and wheeled out her aged 50cc Cub motorbike. Her light blue shirt-dress fluttered gently in the late afternoon breeze, and the small plum blossom hair clip—gifted by ?ng Nhan—nestled delicately in her tomboyish hair, giving her a graceful and serene appearance that felt different from usual.

  In the courtyard, ?ng Nhan was sitting on a low stool, roasting peanuts over a small wood stove. He held a long bamboo chopstick, stirring steadily in a blackened pan. As soon as he saw Trang, he smiled warmly:

  "Enjoy the wedding, my dear. I’m roasting these peanuts to make peanut salt for green bean sticky rice. I’ll wait for you to come back and eat with me."

  Trang chuckled, her eyes lighting up with simple joy:

  "Sticky rice with green beans and peanut salt? I’ll have two servings tonight then!"

  They shared a laugh—two solitary souls in the middle of bustling, glamorous Saigon. In finding each other, they had also found something they thought they’d lost forever: the warmth of family. The soft golden rays of the late afternoon sun poured gently over the worn-out courtyard. Nothing extravagant was needed. Even something as humble as ?ng Nhan’s offer of sticky rice made Trang’s heart feel fuller than on any other evening.

  She waved goodbye to him, then started her Cub. Its familiar puttering engine echoed off the alley walls as the old bike carried her out of the narrow lane, merging her into the busy city streets—toward the wedding banquet hall, where she was about to step into another world. A world of luxury, glitter, and at times… qu

  iet cruelty.

  At Adora Hall in District 1 Saigon, crystal chandeliers bathed the luxurious wedding venue in a soft, glittering glow. The stage, completely covered in fresh flowers meticulously arranged by professional floral artists, transformed the ballroom into an enchanting fairy-tale garden nestled in the heart of bustling Saigon. Gentle music played in the background, and the gourmet menu and every detail of the décor reflected a level of refinement approaching perfection.

  At that moment, the bride Anh ?ào and groom Anh Tú stood beaming with joy beside their parents, graciously welcoming the distinguished guests. The crowd consisted mostly of high-profile entrepreneurs, wealthy elite, and familiar faces from the media and business world.

  Suddenly, a ripple of excitement spread through the room as D?ng’s three close friends arrived—Ti?n, Deep, and Tu?n—with My, Tu?n’s fiancée, elegantly walking beside him. The group entered like red carpet celebrities—immaculate suits, glittering evening gowns, seasoned faces exuding power and presence.

  Tu?n, the dashing man with refined silver-streaked hair, was the very one Trang had once silently fallen for. But to him, her affection had always been nothing more than an inconvenient burden. Orphaned, raised in a humble boarding house, scraping by with odd jobs—those things, in his eyes, made her unworthy to stand beside him.

  Tonight, Tu?n appeared arm-in-arm with My—his stunning fiancée, a wealthy heiress with both beauty and brains. Dressed in a deep crimson evening gown, adorned with sparkling jewelry, she walked beside him like a powerful queen, drawing admiring glances from across the hall.

  "Congratulations, Anh Tú and Anh ?ào! What an extravagant wedding!" said Deep, shaking the groom’s hand.

  "D?ng’s got a sharp eye picking in-laws. What a perfect match," Ti?n added with a half-joking smirk.

  "Now we’re just waiting on Tu?n," Deep teased, giving a sly glance at Tu?n and My, clearly trying to stir the pot.

  Tu?n smiled politely and gave My’s hand a firmer squeeze.

  "My and I are planning our wedding later this year. I hope you’ll all be there to celebrate."

  From across the hall, D?ng approached, greeting his closest friends with a cheerful handshake:

  "With you three around, the whole place lights up!"

  Laughter and warm banter echoed throughout the ballroom—no one noticed the modest tomboyish girl quietly slipping through the rear entrance. Her eyes instinctively followed the man she had once loved, now joyfully walking beside a woman worthy of his world—wealthy, elegant, and flawless.

  And in that dazzling room of power and prestige, Trang’s presence—simple, understated—faded into the background, as if she

  had never even existed...

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Inside the luxurious Adora banquet hall, the clinking of glasses, soft conversations, and gentle background music filled the air—painting a picture-perfect atmosphere for this high-society wedding.

  At the far end of the room, near the emergency exit, Trang sat quietly. She wore a simple light blue shirt-dress. Her short tomboyish hair was pinned modestly with a small hair clip—a gift from ?ng Nhan. Her sun-darkened skin and calloused hands bore the marks of a laborious life. With no makeup on her face, she stood in stark contrast to the glittering, perfectly polished guests surrounding her.

  Suddenly, Anh Th?, D?ng’s second daughter, approached with an air of aristocratic entitlement. Her eyes scanned the room before landing squarely on Trang. Her voice cut through the air—sharp, mocking:

  "Oh, you made it, Miss Trang? At least you had the decency to sit where you belong, huh?"

  A tense silence fell over the table. Though Mr. Tu?n was seated nearby and had clearly heard everything, he remained indifferent. Even a fleeting glance from him felt like a luxury out of reach—as if Trang didn’t even exist in this glittering wedding of the elite.

  Sensing that things were getting out of hand, Mr. Deep furrowed his brow, his voice firm:

  "Th?, that’s no way to speak. Trang is your cousin—by blood."

  Mr. Ti?n joined in with calm authority:

  "Circumstances may differ, but family is still family. You shouldn’t treat your cousin like that, no matter the difference in background."

  Just then, Anh Tú, the groom, happened to be walking by. Hearing the exchange, he turned around with a warm smile:

  "Sister Trang is my wife’s cousin, which means she’s my cousin too. I’ll ask the staff to seat her closer to the main tables—where it’s warmer and more welcoming."

  His words made several guests pause and reflect on their own behavior. The groom’s parents—who had been touched by Trang’s story even before the wedding—also stepped forward, their expressions filled with kindness:

  "Come sit up here with us, dear. You’re family—don’t be shy."

  Trang gave a small bow, her voice soft:

  "Thank you… but I’m fine sitting anywhere."

  Her gaze drifted briefly across the hall to where Tu?n and My sat—still radiant in their own world, not sparing her so much as a glance…

  Trang was politely invited by a restaurant staff member to move to a table closer to the stage—where the bride and groom’s close family were seated. She walked over quietly, her steps tentative, her eyes unable to hide her unease. As she sat down, she stole a glance at Mr. Tu?n—the man she had quietly loved for so long. She had always watched him from afar. As long as he was happy, she felt content. It was a love that asked for nothing in return—gentle, pure, and selfless. But he never understood that. To him, she was nothing but a nuisance.

  My, his elegant and beautiful fiancée, had long noticed that look in Trang’s eyes. Her face darkened instantly, her gaze turning icy. Unable to contain herself, My suddenly stood up right in the middle of the wedding banquet, her abrupt movement knocking chairs askew.

  All eyes in the hall turned toward her.

  "Look at yourself! Who would even notice a shabby, uneducated freeloader like you?" – her shrill voice pierced through the once-cozy atmosphere.

  "A girl with no parents, no proper schooling—not even a grade-school diploma—and you dare dream about my fiancé? Ridiculous!"

  The entire hall descended into chaos. But My didn’t stop there. She stormed toward Trang, grabbed her by her tomboy hair, and violently shoved her to the ground.

  The sudden push made Trang stumble. Her body crashed onto the gleaming white floor. Her pale white plum blossom hair clip—a simple yet cherished gift from ?ng Nhan—flew off and shattered, its plastic beads scattering under the golden lights.

  "Trang!" – Mr. Deep shouted, rushing over along with Mr. Ti?n and several staff members.

  They quickly helped her up. Though her face remained calm, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Trang wasn’t crying from pain—but from humiliation… and a profound sense of abandonment.

  The MC immediately paused the program and signaled the tech team to stop the music. Guests began murmuring nervously, many pulling out their phones to record the scene.

  A glass shattered somewhere at a far table, making the atmosphere even heavier. The bride and groom’s family looked on in shock, stunned by what had just unfolded. None of them could reconcile this raging, venomous My with the sweet, demure young lady they thought they knew. In their eyes, her image was now ir

  reparably shattered.

  Sensing the situation spiraling out of control, C?u D?ng quickly left the in-laws’ table and strode toward the scene. His face was flushed with anger, eyes stern and focused directly on My.

  "My! How could you treat my niece with such disrespect?"

  But My didn’t flinch. Her eyes blazed with fury as she snapped back, her voice sharp and piercing:

  "She dared to lust after my fiancé! I had to show her where she belongs in this society. A nobody like her thinking she can climb so high? A wooden chopstick trying to sit at a golden table!"

  The entire banquet hall seemed to hold its breath. An oppressive silence fell over every table, thick with embarrassment.

  The groom, Anh Tú, realizing things had gone far beyond acceptable, quickly stepped forward. He gently took Trang’s arm and spoke softly:

  "Let me call a taxi to take you home. Just leave your bike here—we’ll have someone bring it to your boarding house tomorrow. I'm… sorry about today."

  Trang said nothing. She lowered her head, her eyes fixed on the broken plum blossom hairclip—one side now chipped, several plastic beads scattered. Her hands trembled as she bent down to pick it up, lips pressed into a thin line.

  At that moment, Mr. Tu?n—the man she had silently loved through her entire youth—stood up. His voice was tight with displeasure:

  "You’ve embarrassed me, My. Look around—these are our partners, businesspeople, dignitaries. Couldn’t you at least spare me some face?"

  But My only raised her voice, all pretense of gentility gone:

  "You want me to show her some respect? That orphan girl? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her! Or is it that her pathetic, longing eyes actually made you weak?"

  Murmurs broke out across the hall. Waitstaff silently cleaned up the shattered glass. The videographer awkwardly turned the camera in another direction.

  The bride, Anh ?ào, hurried down from the stage, her face pale with embarrassment. This chaos was never meant to be part of her big day. But it had erupted like a storm—and at the very center of it all was Trang. The lonely girl adrift in this dazzling Saigon, disowned by her own blood, scorned by the man she loved. Carrying with her a wound so quiet, yet so deep, it had st

  retched across the years.