I, a 32-year-old, independent woman with my own apartment and a stable career, was seated at the most unimportant table—table 12, near the kitchen doors.

Waiters constantly rushed out with trays, brushing against the back of my chair, and the pungent smell of roasting meat made it hard to breathe. The only people at the table were a few younger female relatives, about twenty-five years old, and a talkative aunt who kept repeating with an air of importance that “women shouldn’t wait too long to have children.”

My sister, Mira, spent the entire evening trying to make me look like a failure. She’d either lead the groom to the wealthy guests and loudly declare that I was “too picky,” or feign sadness that “such a beautiful girl is still single.”

People echoed her, advising me to “be simpler,” and some even suggested that I “come to church more often.” When it was time to toss the bouquet, my sister theatrically tossed it in the opposite direction, as if by accident, and then announced to the entire room,

“Looks like my sister’s going to have to wait a little longer.”

I was already looking at my watch, mentally planning my escape through the kitchen, when I heard a calm, low, confident male voice behind me:

“Play along with me. Pretend you came with me. I promise your sister will quickly regret every word.”

I turned around and saw a man who literally took my breath away. Tall, well-groomed, in a perfect suit, with deep brown eyes and a hint of gray at his temples.

“Leon,” he introduced himself with a slight smile. “The groom’s cousin.”

Without asking permission, but doing so with the utmost respect, he pulled out a chair and placed his hand on the back of my chair. The room reacted instantly—whispers spread from table to table.

My sister, standing at the bar with a glass of champagne, froze abruptly. Her perfect smile cracked, and her gaze grew strange.

Only later did I learn who this strange man was and why all the guests were in complete shock. 

Leon wasn’t just a “relative of the groom.” He turned out to be one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs in the region—a man whose name was known even to those far removed from business.

Young, successful, reserved about gossip, and, most importantly, lonely. The women at the wedding furtively watched his every move: some dreamed of getting a closer look, some tried to get to know him, but he paid no attention to anyone.

Until that moment.

Leon sat next to me as if it were completely natural. He laughed, leaned closer, joked back, and completely ignored the admiring glances of the others.

The guests exchanged glances. Some even gaped in surprise. And my sister looked at me as if the glass in her hand was about to shatter.

Meanwhile, Leon quietly leaned toward me and said:

“You’re probably tired of all this ‘advice,’ too. But believe me, you’re not at all what they’re trying to make you out to be.”

In that second, I realized two things: first, I no longer felt humiliated or cornered, and second, this man hadn’t approached me by chance.

And the whole room saw it clearly.