That line drew faint smiles and knowing nods from the guests, a ripple of shared defiance, and Emily felt her throat tighten all over again, her vision blurring.
The walk down the aisle seemed to stretch and narrow at once, time bending under the gravity of the moment. Every step felt monumental, the train of her gown trailing like a comet's tail, petals crunching softly underfoot.
Every breath was measured, scented with wax and blooms. At the halfway point, Ana's father leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You are almost there, dear one. Look at them—they've been waiting their whole lives for this."
Lily's father gave her hand one final, firm squeeze, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Go on now. They are waiting. And so is your future."
Then they reached the altar, the air thick with anticipation.
