Chapter III opens with an atmosphere of barely contained chaos, where the lack of leadership leads to unbridled disorder. Guests, unsure of how to carry themselves or what should happen next, instinctively turn to food, drink, and noise. In this village, celebration rarely unfolds with grace—it erupts with clashing voices, heavy steps, and overflowing cups. The wedding of Anisim and Lipa reflects more than festivity; it becomes a stage for custom-bound obligation. Anisim’s presence is hollow, his eyes distant, his responses dulled by either disinterest or inner unrest. Despite the crowded tables and generous servings, the emotional connection between the couple feels absent, replaced by a ritual observed out of duty rather than affection.

The ceremony blends sacred rites with raw, unfiltered human behavior. Church bells ring, candles burn, but Anisim stands stiffly, his hands trembling slightly at the altar. As chants echo off cold stone walls, he reflects inwardly—not about his future with Lipa, but about mistakes that won’t leave him. The moment is not colored by hope but by introspection. He wonders whether redemption is possible or if he’s simply pretending to move forward while tethered to a past that refuses to release him. Around him, the faces of villagers blur into one mass of familiarity, yet none truly see his disconnection. His sense of isolation intensifies as the rituals proceed, each word of blessing landing heavy rather than uplifting.

Lipa, in contrast, struggles with more tangible discomforts. The gown clings uncomfortably, her shoes pinch with each step, and the weight of stares crushes her confidence. Her soft eyes dart from side to side, searching for a kind expression, a safe corner, but the wedding leaves her exposed. Though beautiful in youth and innocence, she feels misplaced in the center of so much scrutiny. She had dreamt of tenderness, perhaps a glance of reassurance from Anisim, but none comes. Instead, she moves through the event as if watching herself from afar, detached from the joy expected of her. Her inner quietness becomes more pronounced against the roar of laughter and clinking glasses.

The celebration that follows offers no reprieve for either of them. Plates are piled high, and vodka flows with little restraint. Guests from all corners of the village arrive, each bringing their own flavor of rowdiness—songs out of tune, jokes repeated too loudly, arguments brewing in corners. The feast becomes more than a meal; it’s a performance of tradition, where excess replaces genuine sentiment. Behind the laughter, subtle tensions crackle—jealousy, rivalry, and class distinctions are felt in every glance and gesture. Some raise their cups with honest joy, but others toast with hollow cheers, hiding gossip behind smiles. In such an environment, sincerity struggles to survive.

Amid the noise, Varvara, the matriarch, observes silently, her thoughts unreadable. She has seen many such weddings and knows that celebration can mask sorrow. Her eyes follow Anisim closely, not with affection, but with concern. She senses something unresolved in him, something coiled and waiting. Lipa’s gentleness does not match the storm Anisim carries, and Varvara fears the collision may break more than hearts. The food may be plentiful, the music loud, but the soul of the wedding feels unsteady, like a dance done on cracking ice. She wishes for peace in their home but knows that silence after a storm is not the same as calm.

As the evening wanes, the guests grow louder, then suddenly tired, their laughter turning to slurred farewells. Lipa finds herself seated alone for a moment, her fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve. She tries to imagine what life will now be—whether Anisim will soften, whether kindness will grow. Yet the heaviness in her chest lingers. Her marriage has begun not with joy, but with confusion. For all the preparation and money spent, what was truly celebrated? The community marked the day with spectacle, but love remained elusive.

The chapter paints the wedding as a reflection of broader societal themes—how tradition can stifle individual emotion, how celebrations often hide fear, and how rituals can mask disconnect. Both Anisim and Lipa begin their life together not as partners in harmony, but as two individuals walking parallel paths under the burden of expectation. In highlighting their inner worlds against the backdrop of noise and tradition, the story subtly questions whether marriage, when stripped of affection, can ever be more than a formality. Through its layers of tension and reflection, the chapter invites readers to see beneath the surface, where silent conflicts simmer long before the last guest leaves.