The officiant stepped forward with quiet grace. After offering a warm welcome and a few heartfelt words about love and commitment, he turned to face the couple.
"Do you, Rowan Pierce, take Lyra Ashford to be your lawfully wedded wife, to stand by her in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
In that moment, an unfamiliar sweetness blossomed within him. The word slipped from his tongue like a piece of treasured candy he hadn't expected to taste.
Just yesterday, he had argued with his parents, firm in his decision never to marry. Yet the moment he heard the bride's name, something inside him shifted—his heart began to soften.
He gazed at the woman before him, who had never looked more beautiful, as she said, "I do." Her voice was steady and sure, her eyes clear and unwavering.
Mr. Cray stepped forward and handed the rings. With the rings exchanged, the officiant declared, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. The groom may kiss the bride."
Lyra drew in a breath and closed her eyes. The soft brush of his lips against hers sent warmth blooming across her cheeks, a flutter stirring in her chest. Rowan's hands rested gently at her waist, drawing her closer until she could feel the steady beat of his heart against hers.
When they finally pulled back…
Clap! Clap! Clap!
At the aisle's entrance, a man in a grey suit appeared. Silver hair in a long fishtail braid. Red glasses perched atop his head. Lyra froze to see the face… identically to Lucas's.
"Owen," she gasped.
He had been gone for years. And now, what did he want with this sudden appearance?
Owen Arden was Lucas's identical twin, yet he was noticeably different. Tattoos crawled across his neck and hands. His frame was solid and muscular, like Rowan's—a stark contrast to Lucas's slender build.
Whispers rippled through the crowd, the air suddenly buzzing with curiosity.
"Oh, I'm late!" he shouted as he strode down the aisle toward the altar. The sharp, disapproving stares fell on him, but he didn't flinch.
"Stop him!" Alex called to the guards, but Albert hurried forward to block his way.
"You're not supposed to be here. Don't cause a commotion!" he warned.
Owen raised his hands in a mock gesture of truce. "I have something to say to the bride. Please allow me." He smirked as he strode past Albert.
"Lucas said he was putting the wedding on hold… so how come here you are, quietly running off to marry someone else?" Owen shook his head.
Lyra felt intimidated by Owen, but she drew on her courage, standing firmly behind Rowan, she said, "I never agreed with what he did! And anyway, I dumped him the second he ran off."
"Then why didn't you pick me instead?" His voice tinged with hurt.
Lyra instinctively stepped back, but Rowan held her firmly, a quiet reassurance in his steady grip.
Owen sighed, watching for her reaction. He was quite frustrated.
He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab her, but Rowan deflected it in a flash, making him stumble back a step, caught off guard.
"Back off," Rowan said quietly, but his darkened eyes left no doubt he meant it.
He glared at Rowan as he snapped, "She's mine from the very beginning! Lucas stole her, and now you?!"
"She isn't yours," Rowan said steadily. "You need to go check your brain." With a subtle flick of his eyes, he signaled Kane.
"Come on, genius. Time to exit stage left." Kane clapped a hand on his shoulder. He knew he couldn't take on Rowan Pierce here.
He spat to the ground and turned to leave, but halfway down the aisle, he spun back, eyes locking on Lyra, who stood just behind her husband. "Just wait for me, Lyra. I'll get you back!"
Kane snorted and gave him a light shove. "Yeah, yeah, we've heard it all before. Exit stage left, superstar!"
Owen shot him a glare before turning sharply and striding out.
A ripple of murmurs ran through the guests, their eyes following him as he disappeared from view.
Alex cleared his throat and smiled warmly. "Well, that was… unexpected! Let's not let it ruin our celebration."
He guided the way. "Please, everyone. Dinner is served, and the first toast awaits!"
The guests slowly made their way to the reception area, still murmuring about the earlier drama. The garden's string lights had been lit as dusk settled in, casting a warm glow over the tables arranged elegantly on the lawn.