This game 👉
I HATE YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH! 😡 My name’s Lucy. I’m 29, and I live in Manchester. A month ago, I had a wedding countdown on my phone. Now I can’t bear to look at the photo I’d set as my wallpaper. Daniel and I had been together for six years. An ordinary life. A rented flat, shopping at Aldi on Sundays, his socks under the sofa, me constantly saying we ought to start saving for a place of our own. When he proposed, I didn’t even let him finish. I said yes straight away. We’d spent nearly two years saving for the wedding. I took extra shifts at the salon, stopped buying clothes and made the invitations myself in the evenings at the kitchen table. I just wanted one day when everything would be lovely. Without thinking about bills. A day when Mum would see me in my dress and cry happy tears. My best friend Emma helped with everything. We’d been friends since we were seventeen. She knew about my first kiss with Daniel, our arguments and all the times I’d had doubts. She was the one who said: “Lucy, stop overthinking it. He absolutely adores you.” She helped me choose my dress. Did up the zip in the fitting room. Filmed me on her phone and cried. Now I keep thinking about those tears. On my wedding day, I woke up at half five. Even though my alarm was set for seven. I lay in the hotel room, looking at the dress hanging on the wardrobe door. Emma was the first to arrive. She sat beside me and took my hand. “Everything’s going to be perfect.” There were forty minutes until the ceremony. I was left alone. Her phone was beside my make-up bag. We’d been using it to play music all day. The screen lit up. Daniel: “Did you delete yesterday’s messages?” At first, I didn’t understand. I thought they were discussing a surprise. Emma kept saying there was something waiting for me at the wedding. Then a second message arrived. “Please, just act normal today. We’ll talk about us after the wedding.” I remember suddenly not being able to hear the music. The phone hadn’t locked yet. I
