Lara's POV
The sunlight spilled through the curtains before I even opened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot where I was, until the sound of hurried footsteps outside the door brought me back to reality.
It was the day of my wedding.
I sat up quickly, my heart racing. My thoughts were still foggy from the restless night, and before I could even think of what to do first, the door opened. I froze when I saw who stepped inside.
"Good morning, Lara," Cammie said gently. Her familiar voice filled the room like a soft memory. She was holding a tray with breakfast and a vase of white roses, her expression caught somewhere between joy and hesitation. Behind her, two stylists followed, already unpacking their makeup kits and brushes.
For a moment, I didn't know how to feel. Cammie. My best friend. The one person who had been with me through everything, from sleepless work nights to heartbreaks and silly laughter. But now, things were different. Ever since I learned what she truly was, that she was one of them, a werewolf, something inside me had shifted. I tried to accept it, but a small part of me still couldn't. It was as if her secret had built a quiet wall between us.
And yet, seeing her here made my heart ache with a strange kind of happiness.
"You're here," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.
She smiled faintly and placed the tray on the vanity table. "Of course, I am. It's your wedding day. You didn't really think I'd miss this, did you?"
I wanted to say yes, I did think that—but instead, I just looked at her, my chest tightening with a mix of emotion. "I wasn't expecting you," I said softly.
She hesitated for a second, then admitted, "Marco asked me to come. He said you needed someone close to you today. I guess that makes me your maid of honor."
The words caught me off guard. "Maid of honor?" I repeated, blinking in surprise.
Cammie nodded, her smile nervous but sincere. "You didn't know? I asked Marco if I could stand beside you, even if you hadn't forgiven me yet. I wanted to be here, Lara. Whether you still trust me or not, I couldn't let you face this day alone."
My throat tightened. I wanted to stay angry, to remind myself that she had lied to me, but the warmth in her voice made it hard. Beneath all the hurt, she was still the same Cammie who had held me when I cried, who believed in me before anyone else did.
One of the stylists interrupted the silence. "We should begin, Miss Lara. It will take a few hours to get everything ready."
Cammie nodded quickly and handed me a cup of coffee. "Here, drink this before they start. You'll need your energy," she said, her tone gentle and caring.
"Thank you," I murmured, taking it with trembling hands.
As the stylists went to work, the room filled with soft chatter and the scent of roses and powder. Cammie stayed nearby, quietly helping them arrange my robe and veil. Every now and then, I could feel her eyes on me, watchful, protective, maybe even remorseful.
Cammie stepped beside me and smiled. "You look stunning, Lara. Like the Luna you were meant to be."
Her words made my heart twist. I forced a small smile, unable to ignore the sadness in her tone. "You always know what to say," I whispered.
And as I turned back to the mirror, catching her reflection beside mine, I managed a quiet, genuine smile. "I'm glad you came, Cammie."
Her eyes softened, glimmering with emotion. "So am I."
Even if I was still upset with her, a part of me was deeply grateful she was there. No matter what had changed between us, she was still my best friend. She always would be. But knowing she was a werewolf, a creature from a world I barely understood had changed everything. I wasn't sure if I could ever see her the same way again.
Still, I realized that I didn't want to lose her completely. Not today. Not when the rest of my world already felt uncertain.
By the time the stylists finished, I could hardly recognize myself. My reflection glowed beneath the soft light, and for a heartbeat, I simply stared. The woman in the mirror looked radiant, her hair gleaming with soft waves pinned perfectly in place, her veil cascading over her shoulders like silk. The gown fit as though it had been sewn by the hands of angels. She looked like a true bride, beautiful, serene, and ready to begin a new chapter of her life.
But deep inside, I knew the truth. This was not a love story. This was a promise built on paper, a contract disguised as a wedding.
Still, I wished it were real. I wished Marco and I were truly standing on the same side of love, not bound by duty but by choice.
I looked radiant, like a real bride. But my heart felt heavier with every passing minute. Cammie stood behind me, smiling faintly. "You look beautiful, Lara," she whispered.
I managed a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Cammie," I said softly.
The gown shimmered under the morning light, a silent reminder that by noon, I would belong to Marco. As the stylists cleaned up and the room grew quiet again, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. But as I sat there surrounded by flowers, mirrors, and silence, it felt more like the calm before a storm I had already chosen to walk into.
Outside the window, the sun climbed higher, painting the sky gold. The scent of perfume and powder filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee I never finished.
I took a deep breath and whispered to my reflection, "It's only for the contract... remember that."
But even as I said the words, I could not shake the truth beating quietly in my chest. I was marrying Marco Blackwell, not just as part of a promise, but because somewhere deep inside, I wanted it to mean something more.
The sound of a knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. One of the maids entered, her eyes bright with excitement. "Miss Lara, everyone is waiting. It's time."
My hands trembled as I picked up the bouquet of white roses and lavender. Their scent filled my chest, grounding me in the moment. I turned toward the door, my heart heavy with a mix of fear and longing.
As I descended the grand staircase, I froze halfway down. My breath caught in my throat.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs were my mother and my younger brother. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. I had not expected them to come. I thought I would walk through this day surrounded only by strangers and werewolves from Marco's world. Seeing my family there shattered every ounce of composure I had left.
My mother's eyes glistened with emotion as she looked up at me. "You're so beautiful, my daughter," she whispered, her voice trembling. My brother smiled proudly, though I could see the tears he was trying to hide.
I almost cried right there, my vision blurring as I took the last steps down. Marco stood nearby, speaking with Betty and Judy, my closest human friends from the office. They were the only ones who had stood by me since everyone else seemed to be on Marco's side. Seeing them there, smiling and waving softly, made my chest ache with gratitude.
When Marco noticed me, his voice faltered mid-sentence. For a moment, everything around us seemed to still. His eyes found mine, and his expression changed quickly and so subtly that I almost doubted what I saw. The firm, composed man I knew looked at me with something gentler, something unguarded.
It was only a second, but it made my heart stumble.
The air grew thick with the murmurs of guests waiting outside in the garden. The maids guided me gently toward the doors, their smiles warm and encouraging.
As we stepped into the sunlight, I saw the full splendor of the ceremony laid out before me. The garden was breathtaking, a sea of white and green surrounded by flowering trees. Wolves and humans stood side by side, their faces turned toward me in reverence. This was the sacred union, the ceremony meant for their kind, the place where vows carried the weight of eternity.
Since Marco had marked me, something inside me had changed. I could sense things I never could before. It was subtle at first, but now I could almost feel the difference between those who were human and those who were wolves. Their energy pulsed differently, their presence heavier, as if the air shifted around them. It frightened me at times, this strange new awareness that seemed to whisper truths I had once refused to believe.
Even as I walked among them, I tried to deny it. I told myself it was only my imagination, that I was still the same woman I had always been. Yet deep down, I knew that Marco's mark had awakened something in me. It connected me to his world, a world I had once refused to see or even accept existed. No matter how much I tried to veil the truth, I could feel it now, it was real, and it lived all around me.
My chest tightened as I clutched the bouquet closer. Every step toward that altar felt like walking through a dream I was afraid to wake from. The sunlight kissed the petals in my hand, and the soft breeze lifted the veil over my face, carrying the faint hum of music through the garden.
And as I caught Marco's gaze from across the crowd, I felt the ache of a truth I could not escape.
No matter how much I reminded myself that this wedding was only part of a contract, a performance for those who expected perfection, a part of me still wished it was real. I wished that this day, this man, this promise, belonged to me completely.