Summary
Xu Zhinuan wrote the wrong name on our marriage registration form for the seventh time.
The clerk snapped, “Miss, your partner’s name is Zhou Yu, not Song Yue.”
Her pen stopped. She apologized and took an eighth form.
I sat in the waiting area with my arm in a cast, watching the eighth sheet go into the trash too.
The same wound had been prodded so many times that it no longer hurt.
After all, the notes on our refrigerator were filled with Song Yue’s food restrictions: no ginger, no scallions, no spicy food.
Even the pinned destination in her navigation app was his apartment.
I remembered the phrases she kept repeating to the wedding planners: “Song Yue likes champagne colors. He likes outdoor lawn weddings.”
The planner had taken me aside and whispered, “Mr. Zhou, aren’t you the groom? Who is Song Yue?”
I’d smiled awkwardly, too embarrassed to explain.
Song Yue was my best friend.
But somehow, he seemed to have replaced me as the groom.