Became A Queen After divorce

He had just taken two steps when the bun he had painstakingly stuffed into his mouth rolled to the door and was picked up by a small, chubby hand.

The little girl wore a beautiful white puffy dress and had her hair styled in an elegant princess updo, adorned with two cute bunny hair clips.

Her big, bright eyes were fixed on the bun in her hand.

Omari was about to ask Cierra to bring the bun back to him, but to his surprise, the little girl took a big bite out of it.

“No!”

He was devastated, truly!

With a mouthful of bun, Cierra looked up at him in confusion upon hearing his voice.

Holding the bun, she ran up to him and said in her sweet, childish voice, “Godfather, are you hungry too?”

“Mommy said we shouldn’t waste food, so I picked it up and ate it.”

Omari looked into the innocent eyes of the child. How could he tell her that it wasn’t just a bun, but his dignity as a “woman”?

Besides, Cierra didn’t do it on purpose.

Clearing his throat, Omari covered his eyes with his hand, laughing and crying as he replied, “Sweetheart, I’m not hungry. You eat it. But leave the other one for me, don’t eat it…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Cierra tilted her adorable little head and stared at him. She forgot to chew the bun in her mouth and mumbled through it.

“Godfather, you look so beautiful today, like a fairy.”

Omari felt a mix of emotions.

Because Kate had just woken up and her pregnancy was still unstable, she couldn’t leave the hospital. This left a vacancy for the bridesmaid role.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

Cheyenne couldn’t find a replacement on short notice; she needed at least two bridesmaids.

She had a sudden idea and convinced Omari to dress as a woman.

Omari reluctantly agreed.

Poor him, standing tall at six feet one inch, should have been wearing a suit and outshining the groom Kelvin.

Now he was reduced to wearing a pink dress and pretending to be a woman.

His little niece didn’t understand his predicament and her compliment hit the wrong note.

But what could he do?

She was Cheyenne’s daughter; he had to spoil her.

“Cierra, come here. Godfather will teach you something today.”

He squatted down and earnestly explained to Cierra, “In the future, when you see a man, don’t say he looks like a fairy. Say he is handsome and manly, okay?”

Cierra took another bite of the bun and asked, “Got it. But Godfather… what does ‘manly’ mean?”

That was hard to explain in a short time. Omari resorted to the simplest explanation: “A manly person usually has a beard and is tall and strong.”

He hoped to hear Cierra praise him for being manly.

But the little girl imitated him by touching his chin and patting his arm.

Omari thought, ‘Did my niece just harass me?’

“Cierra, you…”

The little girl looked at him seriously and said, “I just checked. Godfather, you are not manly.”

“So Godfather, you should stay a fairy. You look pretty!”

With that, Cierra stuffed the half-eaten bun into his hand and ran off with her little dress fluttering.

She wanted to test Godfather’s “manliness theory” on other uncles outside.

“What?”

Omari stared dumbfounded at the bun in his hand, which had several obvious bite marks like it had been nibbled by a small hamster.

“Cierra, come back and explain yourself…”

The two-year-old was already hopping away, and Omari’s words were lost in the wind.

“Sigh, I guess I’m really not cut out for raising kids. What a failure!”

Sighing, Omari tucked the bun back into his clothes.

Before leaving, he narcissistically checked himself in the mirror.

“Not bad at all.”

In the forest, red roses stretched as far as the eye could see.

The sea of flowers against the lush trees made one feel the freshness of nature.

“How can there be so many roses on this island?”

The wedding guests were stunned by this fairy-tale-like place.

“I heard Mr. Foley spent a fortune planting them here two years ago.”

They were Cheyenne’s favorite red roses.

Red roses symbolize deep and passionate love, everlasting until death.

Suddenly, a melodious piano tune wafted through the forest, adding romance and mystery to the place.

Someone with sharp eyes noticed that the pianist was not far ahead.

He sat with his back to the crowd, dressed in a clean white suit. Even sitting in a wheelchair did not affect his playing skills.

His slender fingers danced gracefully over the black-and-white keys like elves.

The moving melody flowed from his fingertips, filling the air.

It was just a familiar “Wedding March,” but in this setting, it moved many to tears.

“Look, isn’t that the famous genius pianist Benson?”

“It really is him! He hasn’t appeared in public for years. My God, he’s so handsome!”

“I love his profile; he looks like a melancholic prince straight out of a manga!”

“The Foley family is indeed wealthy; they managed to get Benson to play at their wedding.”

“You might not know this, but Miss Lawrence and Mr. Foley are good friends. They even collaborated on a piece that won a gold award.”

“No wonder. But he’s really handsome and his music is beautiful. Why do I feel like crying?”

“Me too…”

The piano music turned sorrowful; sometimes warm like the wind, sometimes soft like clouds, flowing endlessly like a river.

“It’s ‘Mariage d’amour.'”

Someone exclaimed.

Benson played as if no one else was around; his soul merged with the black-and-white notes. He had no time for others’ opinions.

He was Benson; from now on, he was Cheyenne’s Benson.