The garden was breathtaking. Rows of white chairs lined the aisle, and at the end stood Ethan, tall and still as stone, his eyes locked on her from the moment she stepped into view. The quartet began to play Canon by Pachelbel, the familiar, graceful melody drifting through the warm air.
Clara let herself focus on the moment, the flowers, the sunlight, the hush that fell over the crowd. For now, she could pretend. After the wedding, she will explore every legal loophole in Cade's adoption. She can argue that at eighteen, she had been under duress, unaware of what she was signing. There had to be a way out.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the minister called everyone to attention.
"We are gathered here today," he began, his voice carrying across the garden, "to join Ethan and Clara in the bonds of matrimony…"
Clara felt as if she were moving on autopilot, saying the necessary lines, her hand warm in Ethan's but her heart still cold. And then the minister pronounced them husband and wife.
Ethan didn't wait.
He cupped her face and gave her a deep, deliberate kiss that stole her breath. She froze at first, her body tensing, but there was something in that kiss… a tenderness, a steadiness, that she hadn't felt in years. Every kiss she'd shared since their night together nine years ago had been a distraction, an attempt to forget. This was different. This was healing.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze lingered on her like he was mesmerised by her face. The media, gathered at the edge of the garden, erupted in the sound of clicking cameras and excitement.
The reception followed, full of polite smiles and congratulatory toasts. Clara played her role well, dancing once with Ethan, making small talk with guests, laughing at the appropriate moments.
Ethan's hand rested lightly at her back whenever he drew her into conversation, his presence calming but unreadable.
But inside, she was still miles away.
At one point, they stood alone near the balcony. The city beneath them.
"You look beautiful tonight," he said, voice low.
She met his gaze and his words lingered between them.
Hours later, when the guests began to leave, Ethan reached for her hand again. The night air was cool as they stepped outside, the scent of roses trailing after them. Clara glanced at the band on her finger, its weight unfamiliar.
It wasn't the wedding she always dreamed of. It was something else entirely. And though she told herself she wasn't ready to trust him, his kiss haunted her.