"Five more minutes, father, please!!" I beg as I keep my eyes glued to the door.

"Dara, dear…."

"He'll come, father, maybe he got stuck in the traffic. He probably forgot his phone at home. Otherwise he'd have answered my calls. He never ignores my calls. He'll be here soon. Please."

"Dara, it's more than two hours already. I'm sorry child, I think he might not be coming."

'Two hours?' I glance at the clock at the back of the small church. 1:20 pm. He was two hours twenty minutes late. We should have gotten married two hours twenty minutes ago. I clutch my cheap white gown I got from a thrift store, fighting the urge to tear it off my body.

Why did I choose a dress with a longass train? Why is my hair itchy? Why do my eyes burn? Why can't I breathe properly? Where is he? Why isn't he picking up his phone? Did something happen to him? What if he got into some accident? What if he was badly hurt?

"Drink some water, Dara." The father hands me a glass of water and I gulp it down.

"He will come."

"Dara…"

My phone pings.

Jiyong: I'm sorry.

I stare at the words, not sure if I was reading the words right.

I'm sorry.

Sorry? Why was he sorry? I dialled his number, frantic. Desperate. Why wasn't he picking up? I keep calling him, until my battery drains out.