Right before our wedding ceremony was about to begin, my fiancée Sarah’s male assistant offered to touch up my parents’ hair and makeup. Instead, he turned around and stamped their faces with two bright red, industrial ink stamps used for USDA meat inspections. “Inspection Passed. Quality Prime Pork.” Liam held up the meat inspection stamp, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, this looks so much more festive!” “You guys look like holiday hams straight from the butcher shop.” Chapter 1 Right before our wedding ceremony was about to begin, my fiancée Sarah’s male assistant offered to touch up my parents’ hair and makeup. Instead, he turned around and stamped their faces with two bright red, industrial ink stamps used for USDA meat inspections. “Inspection Passed. Quality Prime Pork.” Liam held up the meat inspection stamp, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, this looks so much more festive!” “You guys look like holiday hams straight from the butcher shop.” The entire ballroom full of guests erupted into raucous laughter. My mom stood frozen in place, frantically and helplessly trying to wipe the red ink off her face. But the foundation smeared, making her entire face look even more like a messy disaster. She forced a tight smile at me. “Ethan, Mom’s fine. It’ll just take a second to wipe off.” My dad kept his head down, his calloused fingertips obsessively rubbing the bottom hem of his suit jacket. It was a brand new suit he had bought specifically for the wedding, but the cuffs were already stained with hair gel and foundation from Liam. He offered a careful, appeasing smile. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be lively.” I was shaking with rage. Just as I stepped forward to intervene… Sarah stepped in front of Liam, blocking him. “Ethan, Liam is just trying to lighten the mood.” “Your parents already said they’re fine, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” My parents looked utterly humiliated, yet they were desperately shaking their heads at me, terrified of causing a scene. Terrified that they were going to ruin my wedding. In that exact moment, I suddenly laughed. My parents couldn’t bear to put me in a difficult position. But Sarah was perfectly fine letting them be publicly humiliated for a cheap laugh. If that’s the case. Then I’m not getting married. Liam stood behind Sarah, his laughter quickly fading. “Ethan, please don’t be mad.” “I really didn’t mean to disrespect your parents.” He lowered his voice, sounding incredibly sincere and apologetic. “I just saw them sitting in the bridal suite looking so stiff and uncomfortable. I didn’t want them to be too nervous and embarrass themselves during the family toasts.” “So I just wanted to make them laugh.” He looked down, playing the victim. “I had no idea you’d be this sensitive about it.” The laughter in the ballroom gradually died down. But the looks the guests were shooting my parents were still laced with undisguised contempt and amusement. My dad just stood there, staring at his shoes. That new suit wasn’t actually expensive. He had saved up for months just to buy it off the rack at a local department store back home. The sleeves were an inch too long, and the shoulders didn’t quite fit right. But before we left the hotel, he had stood in front of the mirror, adjusting it over and over again. He even asked me, his voice full of quiet anxiety: “Ethan, does Dad look okay? Am I going to embarrass you today?” I had smiled and straightened his tie. “How could you?” “You’re going to be the most handsome, respectable father in the whole room.” But now, he was standing in front of hundreds of elite guests. With a literal meat inspection stamp on his face. And his cuffs smeared with makeup and grease. He was the one being degraded, yet he was still terrified of causing trouble for me. “Ethan, it’s really fine.” “Don’t fight with Sarah.” My mom nodded frantically in agreement. She was pale, but still trying her hardest to maintain a polite smile. “Liam is just young and likes to joke around.” “He was just trying to help us get ready.” “Look, everyone had a good laugh, it makes the wedding more fun.” Looking at their forced, painful smiles, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a concrete block. But Liam seemed to take my mom’s words as absolute validation. He let out a soft sigh and murmured: “See, your mom said it’s fine.” “Ethan, if you really make a huge scene over something this small, your parents are going to be the ones who feel embarrassed.” Sarah frowned at me. “Did you hear that?” “Your parents are much more mature than you are.” I stared at her, completely stunned. Chapter 2 We had been together for five years. I thought Sarah, at the very least, understood exactly how much my parents meant to me. My dad is a man of incredibly few words. When he was younger, working construction, his hand was crushed by a steel beam. Even with two permanently mangled fingers, he just smiled and said it didn’t hurt. My mom, to help pay for my college tuition, worked the 4:00 AM shift unloading trucks at a wholesale produce market. In the winter, the deep cracks in her frozen hands would throb in agony every time it rained. They swallowed the absolute hardest, most bitter parts of life so I wouldn’t have to. The only time they ever said anything was the day I got my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They spoke in hushed, emotional voices: “Ethan, from now on, you walk with your back straight.” “Mom and Dad don’t have much to offer, but we promise, we will never let anyone look down on you.” But today. They were standing awkwardly, drowning in the mocking laughter of a room full of high-society guests. Wearing red “Prime Pork Quality” stamps on their faces. They had been humiliated to the point where they couldn’t even lift their heads. And yet, they were still carefully, desperately making excuses for Sarah. But Sarah couldn’t see any of that. She only saw Liam standing there with his head bowed. So, in her eyes, everything that was going wrong was my fault for being “immature.” I took a deep breath and walked over to my parents. “Dad. Mom.” “I’m taking you to the bathroom to wash that off.” My mom immediately panicked. “The toasts are about to start, we can’t leave now.” She gripped my hand tightly, dropping her voice to a frantic whisper. “Ethan, everyone here is Sarah’s family or her important clients.” “Please, don’t make a scene and let people laugh at us.” My throat tightened painfully. They were already the punchline of the joke. But they were still obsessively worrying that I would be the one getting laughed at. Liam suddenly spoke up, his voice soft and helpful: “How about… I just touch up Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s makeup right now?” My dad instinctively nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Liam picked up a makeup sponge and walked over to my dad. But after two quick dabs, his hand “slipped,” and he aggressively jammed the sponge directly into the corner of my dad’s eye. My dad’s eye instantly swelled up and turned red, but he didn’t even try to dodge. He just muttered, “It’s fine, it’s fine.” I finally lost it. I grabbed Liam’s wrist in a vice grip. “Enough.” Liam winced, but kept his voice incredibly light. “Ethan, are you seriously going to get physical at your own wedding?” The very next second, Sarah stepped directly in front of him, her voice dropping into a cold, warning tone. “Ethan.” “Don’t push it.” “Liam is already trying to fix it. What more do you want?” I looked at her, physically shielding Liam, and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger. Five years ago, the first time Sarah visited my family’s tiny house. My dad was so nervous he could barely string a sentence together. While pouring wine at dinner, he accidentally spilled a few drops on the cuff of Sarah’s blouse. She instantly stood up, steadied my dad’s hand, and smiled warmly: “Mr. Miller, it’s totally my fault, I bumped the table.” “Please don’t be nervous, we’re going to be family soon.” That night, my mom whispered to me in the kitchen: “Sarah is such a well-raised, polite girl.” I thought so too. I thought she genuinely respected me, and respected my family. But it turns out, respect is something that can be completely depleted. Or rather. When she wants to protect someone else. My parents’ dignity isn’t even worth considering. The wedding coordinator rushed over, looking frantic. “Ms. Sinclair, Mr. Miller, the family toasts need to begin immediately.” “The elders are already seated.” Sarah finally looked at me, lowering her voice. “Ethan, stop throwing a tantrum.” “Get on the stage.” I didn’t move. I just turned to look at the head table near the stage. Sarah’s family, dressed in immaculate designer clothes, sat elegantly under the spotlight. Every single one of them looked flawless and dignified. And my parents were standing in the shadows of the corner, red stamps on their faces, radiating absolute, suffocating anxiety. Chapter 3 Liam was still standing nearby, keeping his head down. Sarah whispered to him reassuringly: “It’s fine, I’ll handle it.” I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. If her way of “handling it” was forcing my parents to swallow this humiliation and just go through the motions… If it meant I just had to choke down my anger. Then this wedding ends right here. A second later, the officiant smiled brightly and spoke into the microphone: “And now, we invite the newlyweds to offer a toast to their parents.” The moment the applause broke out. My parents were already being half-shoved, half-escorted onto the stage by the venue staff. The red ink on their faces still wasn’t completely wiped off. The foundation was smeared, and sweat had caused the colors to run, making them look even more pathetic and messy. On the stage, Sarah’s parents sat dead center. The lighting was brilliant; their chairs were draped in elegant, celebratory silk. My parents were placed off to the side. They were given two flimsy, temporary folding chairs without even a cushion. When my dad sat down, his knees practically hit the edge of the small table in front of him. He awkwardly tried to tuck his legs away. Liam somehow managed to follow us onto the stage. He held a silver tray with the champagne flutes, smiling warmly. “Ethan, let me help you hand out the glasses.” I glared at him coldly. “I don’t need your help.” He didn’t get angry, just replied softly: “I just want to be helpful.” Sarah frowned. “Ethan.” “Don’t embarrass people on stage.” I stared at her. I suddenly remembered six months ago, when Sarah took me to get fitted for my tuxedo. Liam tagged along. With a single comment—”This cut is too old-fashioned, it doesn’t match Sarah’s status”—Sarah ordered the tailor to swap out the custom suit I had spent months picking out. I told her it was the exact style I had wanted for a long time. Sarah just laughed. “Liam has a great eye for high-end fashion. Trust him, he knows what he’s talking about.” The same thing happened with the floral arrangements. I wanted white lisianthus. Liam said red roses looked more festive and expensive. So Sarah had the florist change everything to red roses. She said: “Liam manages all the VIP corporate events, his aesthetic is flawless, he knows how this stuff works.” But I was the one getting married. It turned out that even back then… My wedding had already ceased to be my wedding. And now, even my parents’ basic human dignity wasn’t considered dignified enough to respect. Liam handed me a champagne flute. It was filled entirely to the brim. The liquid was scalding hot, the steam making my eyes sting. Just as I reached out to take it, he suddenly tilted his wrist. The scalding liquid splashed directly onto the back of my dad’s hand. My dad violently flinched, his shoulders jerking in pain, but he frantically grabbed the glass to keep it from shattering. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” “Don’t spill it, let the kids do the toast.” My chest tightened painfully. Liam raised an eyebrow, feigning an exaggerated apology. “Mr. Miller, I’m so sorry.” “I thought you had a solid grip on it.” “Are you just a little too nervous?” A few low chuckles echoed from the audience below. Someone whispered loudly: “The groom’s family has clearly never seen a room like this before.” “They really don’t belong here, do they?” My mom heard them. Her face turned paper-white, but she still reached over to wipe the liquid off my dad’s hand. “Did you get burned?” My dad shook his head. “I’m fine.” But the back of his hand was already blooming with a massive, angry red burn. Those hands… I had watched them work my entire life. Rough, calloused, covered in tiny, permanent scars. When I was in college, money was incredibly tight. He was terrified I would feel inferior to the rich kids on campus. He secretly wired me an extra fifty dollars a month out of his own pocket. While he ate the cheapest, most pathetic meals he could find on the construction site. Once, I came home for a surprise visit and caught him squatting on the curb, eating a plain, dry piece of bread. When he saw me, he panicked and hid the bread behind his back. He smiled and said: “Dad just finished a huge lunch.” Those were the hands that held up the sky for me my entire life. Chapter 4 And now, they were covered in blistering burns. Yet he was still insisting he was fine. I couldn’t take it for another second. I reached out to grab his arm. “Dad, I’m taking you to get some burn cream.” My mom frantically pulled two red envelopes from her purse. I knew there wasn’t much money inside them. But it was every single ounce of dignity and savings they could scrape together. For this wedding, my mom went to the bank a month in advance to request crisp, brand-new bills. She pressed them flat inside a heavy encyclopedia, saying they had to look perfect when she handed them over. She even kept the red envelopes under her pillow for a week, terrified the corners would get bent. When she showed them to me back then, she smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “Ethan, Mom and Dad can’t give you guys a lot.” “But it’s clean, honest money.” “Take it, it’s for good luck.” But as she held the envelopes out on stage, Liam suddenly leaned in to inspect them. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, aren’t these envelopes a little… thin?” Liam acted as if a sudden realization had hit him, his smile turning mocking and light. “Oh, but I guess that makes sense.” “I heard that Ethan had to sell his family’s house back in his hometown just to afford to marry into the Sinclair family.” “Did you guys empty out your entire life savings just to try and cover his half of the wedding costs?” “But looking at these envelopes… it doesn’t look like much of a flex, does it?” My parents’ faces drained of all color. The audience erupted into loud whispers, and ugly, degrading comments began floating up to the stage. I closed my eyes. That old house was my parents’ absolute last resort. Their safety net. It was located in a rapidly gentrifying downtown area back home. For years, developers had been circling, offering high prices for the lot. But my parents absolutely refused to sell. They always said: “We’re keeping the house.” “That way, if you ever get hurt out there, you always have a place to come back to.” But half a month ago, Sarah’s company ran into a massive cash flow crisis. She was awake every single night, pacing and stressed. I couldn’t stand seeing her like that, so I quietly convinced my parents to sell the old house. I wired that money directly into the escrow account of Sarah’s company to serve as an emergency bridge loan. But looking at the situation now… it seems that wasn’t necessary. I pulled out my phone and texted the escrow attorney, ordering him to immediately reverse the wire transfer and send the money back to my account. In the few seconds I was looking down at my phone, my dad was already frantically patting his pockets. “We have more, we have more.” “We brought a little extra.” He pulled a small, crumpled wad of cash from his inside jacket pocket. It was the emergency money he had refused to spend on water or food during the trip, hoarding it specifically for me. I finally grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Dad. No.” “You don’t owe anyone in this room a damn thing.” Liam acted as if my voice had startled him, throwing his hands up defensively. “Ethan, I didn’t mean anything by it.” “I just think that for a wedding this extravagant, the groom’s side should at least try to look the part.” “I was just worried people were going to laugh at your parents.” Sarah’s face finally hardened. “Liam, that’s enough.” But her tone was still entirely too soft. So soft that when Liam lowered his head, I could clearly see the smug, unrestrained smirk hiding on his lips. Right at that exact moment, Sarah’s phone rang. She answered it impatiently. “What is it?” Whatever the person on the other end said… Sarah’s face instantly went stark white.
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