Chapter 15 A FAIRYTALE.
\~~~SERENA.
Just like that, my mother agreed to my union with Damien.
I mean, JUST LIKE THAT!
To be honest, I had braced myself for war. I had prepared speeches in my head, excuses, and even silent tears for when she would inevitably shut it down. I was so certain she would never agree.
Not only because Damien was older than me, or old enough that the age gap alone was enough to raise brows but because I was still in my final year of law school. Marriage, to my mother, was not something to be entered lightly. It was not romance. It was responsibility, sacrifice. Sometimes, a cage.
She looked at Damien for a long moment, her gaze sharp and measuring, the way it always got when she was deciding something that mattered.
“Do you understand,” she asked him calmly, “that marrying my daughter means she becomes your responsibility? That nothing must happen to her. Ever.”
Damien didn’t hesitate. He didn’t fidget or look away.
“I understand,” he said firmly. “And I have never been happier to take on such responsibility.”
That alone almost knocked the breath out of me.
Then she reminded him sternly that I was in my final year, and the last thing she wanted was for marriage to be the reason my dreams died before they even began.
“Marriage killed mine,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that settled heavily in the room. “And even after his death, I still couldn’t bring myself to dream again.”
The silence that followed was thick and painful.
Still, Damien didn’t flinch.
“I will see her through her final year,” he said. “I will make sure she finishes strong. I will support her until she’s called to the bar, and beyond that.”
My throat tightened.
My mother studied him again, longer this time, as if searching for cracks in his resolve. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because she finally nodded once.
“Very well,” she said. “But know this, if anything happens to her dreams because of you, I will hold you accountable.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Damien replied.
I sat there, stunned, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
It happened so fast. Too fast.
And yet, beneath the shock, beneath the fear and uncertainty, something else stirred quietly in my chest.
Hope.
It was unsteady and fragile, but it was there all the same.
“What did my mother talk to you about?” I asked, turning my head to look at Damien as the car pulled away from my childhood home.
After we had finished preparing to leave, my mother had called him aside. They spoke for so long that I eventually gave up waiting and went to sit in the car, my nerves twisting tighter with every passing minute.
But Damien returned as though nothing monumental had just happened. As though whatever my mother said was insignificant. As though I didn’t deserve to know.
“We’re meeting the wedding planner soon,” he said instead, eyes fixed on his phone. “We’ll work out the style you want.”
I stared at him. “Are you kidding?”
“Of course not,” he replied calmly. “I told you I’d give you your dream wedding.”
“W–wait, no,” I said quickly. “That’s not what I’m asking. What did you and my mother talk about?”
“That’s mine to worry about,” he dismissed, already scrolling through his screen.
Something inside me tightened.
I kept my eyes on him, hoping ridiculously that he would feel my stare and look back. That he would sigh and explain. That he would let me in.
———
We arrived at the restaurant not long after. It was a quiet, upscale place tucked away from the city's bustle. The kind of place where everything smelled expensive and voices stayed politely low. As soon as Damien stepped out of the car and came around to my side, the doors opened, and two people rose from a table near the window.
A man and a woman both well-dressed, poised, and smiling like this moment meant everything to them.
“Welcome, Mr. Hale,” the woman said, dipping into a respectful bow. Her gaze flicked to me. “Ms. Serena.”
I stiffened slightly at the sound of my name paired with his like that.
Damien acknowledged them with a nod and pulled out a chair for me. I sat, smoothing my dress, hyper-aware of every movement I made. Only after I settled did the planners take their seats across from us.
“Yes, we are your wedding planners,” the man said warmly, placing a sleek folder on the table. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. It is truly an honor to be entrusted with something so meaningful.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically. “We have reviewed the brief Mr. Hale sent ahead. We will be overseeing everything from the ceremony layout to the reception flow. Our goal is to reflect your vision completely. The vibe, the colors, even the smallest details.”
She smiled at me. “Including your wedding dress.”
I blinked. Dress?
They spoke at length after that about themes and atmospheres, about elegance versus intimacy, about fabrics and silhouettes and guest experiences. I nodded when required, responded when prompted, but it all felt strangely unreal. Like they were planning a life that hadn’t fully asked for my consent.
Then Damien’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, frowned briefly, and looked at me. “Excuse me,” he said, already standing.
Before I could respond, before my brain could even process what was happening, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips.
It wasn’t soft or gentle.
It was deliberate, and public!
When he pulled away, my face burned. I was sure my ears had turned red too.
Damien walked away as if he hadn’t just stunned me into silence.
“Oh,” the woman planner laughed lightly, covering her mouth. “You’re so in love with your fiancé. That’s really sweet to see.”
I forced a small smile.
Love?
Oh, please.
I scoffed inwardly, folding my hands together on the table.
If this was love, then I clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word at all.
“So, shall we get started, Ms. Serena?” the woman asked gently.
I straightened in my seat and nodded.
Since this might be my first and only wedding…
I might as well make it unforgettable.
Damien had made it very clear, painfully clear, that he had no intention of letting me go. There would be no ‘if’ or ‘maybe’ with him. Only when and how soon.
So yes, if this was going to be my last and only wedding, then I wanted it to be perfect. Exactly how I had imagined it for as long as I could remember.
A fairytale.