Chapter 322: Wedding Day

Chapter 322: Wedding Day
Lysandra's POV

Two months later, I stood at the edge of the forest where my life had changed forever. The same clearing where I'd once pushed a bleeding boy toward safety now bloomed with wildflowers and the warm glow of sunset.

Simple wooden benches formed a half-circle around a rustic arch woven with daisies and baby's breath. Everything about this wedding was deliberate—intimate, natural, real. No grand ballrooms or hired orchestras. Just family, close friends, and the sacred ground where our story truly began.

"Nervous?" Kieran appeared beside me, adjusting his tie.

I smoothed my simple white dress. "Terrified."

"Good terrified or bad terrified?"

Before I could answer, a flash of auburn hair caught my attention. Arwen approached us, walking straight to Kieran's side and intertwining her fingers with his, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the forest setting.

Recognition flickered through me. Alpha Rowan's daughter, the one he'd introduced to Tristan at a party. She'd mentioned running into Tristan on the street, how he'd complimented her appearance. My chest tightened briefly with that familiar pang of possessiveness, remembering how Tristan had probably been trying to make me jealous that night.

Arwen must have read my expression. She released Kieran's hand and moved toward me with a knowing smile.

"Lysandra." She pulled me into a warm embrace, leaning close to whisper in my ear. "I know what you're thinking, and you can stop right now. That night, I thought Tristan had a gorgeous face, nothing more." Her laugh was light, conspiratorial. "But since it's your wedding day, I'll confess—Kieran is the hottest, sexiest man alive. Especially in bed."

I pulled back, grinning, and gave Kieran an enthusiastic thumbs up. He stood there looking completely baffled, running a hand through his brown hair.

"What are you two plotting?" His voice carried mock suspicion.

"Girl talk," Arwen said sweetly, linking her arm through his. "Nothing for you to worry about."

The gathering felt like a family reunion rather than a formal wedding. Eleanor sat alone on one of the front benches, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

Eldreth and Tracy shared a bench near the back, their fingers intertwined. The contentment radiating from them was palpable—two people who'd found their perfect match after years of searching.

Alaric stood off to one side, hands in his pockets, watching the organized chaos with amusement. "I'm starting to think being the only single person here should come with hazard pay," he announced to no one in particular.

Fenris and Isolde occupied the front row, their faces glowing with pride. Fenris kept checking his watch while Isolde fussed with the flower arrangement on the arch. My parents sat beside them, Dad's arm around Mom's shoulders as she whispered excited observations about the decorations.

"Where's the groom?" Orion demanded, tugging on my dress. He looked absolutely dapper in his little black suit, his storm-gray eyes scanning the crowd with five-year-old impatience.

Lyra bounced on her toes beside him, her flower crown slightly askew. "Daddy's probably making himself extra handsome for Mommy!"

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

"He's right here."

Tristan emerged from the tree line, and my breath caught in my throat. The black suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing those broad shoulders and the powerful frame that had always made my pulse race.

He walked toward me slowly, his gaze never leaving my face. When he reached the front of our small gathering, he didn't take his place beside me immediately. Instead, he knelt down to eye level with our children.

"How do I look?" he asked seriously.

Orion studied him with critical intensity. "Very handsome. But Daddy, you forgot something."

Tristan's eyebrows rose. "What did I forget?"

Lyra giggled, producing a small white rose from behind her back. "Your flower! Every groom needs a flower!"

She carefully tucked the rose into his lapel, her small fingers working with surprising precision. Tristan's eyes misted as he watched her concentrate.

"Perfect," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, princess."

When he stood and turned to face me, he crossed the few steps between us. His hands cupped my face as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my lips.

"I want to skip straight to the part where we go back to our room," he murmured against my ear.

"Daddy!" Lyra's indignant voice cut through the moment. "You can't kiss the bride yet! We haven't done the official part!"

Tristan pulled back with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, princess. I got carried away."

Maelor stepped forward, his hands raised to quiet the small crowd.

"We gather today in a place of beginnings," he began, his tone formal yet warm. "This forest has witnessed many things—childhood friendships, acts of courage, the forging of unbreakable bonds."

I felt Tristan's hand brush mine, fingers intertwining.

"Love is not always easy," Maelor continued. "It requires sacrifice, forgiveness, the courage to try again when everything seems lost. Tristan and Lysandra have learned these lessons the hard way."

His eyes found mine. "Do you, Lysandra, take this man as your husband? Not because of obligation or prophecy, but because your heart has decided he is worth the risk?"

"I do." My voice carried clearly across the clearing. "I choose him. I choose us."

Tristan's thumb traced circles across my knuckles. When Maelor asked him the same question, his answer came without hesitation.

"I do. Every day, for the rest of my life, I choose her."

"Then exchange your vows," Maelor said, stepping back slightly.

This was the moment I'd been both anticipating and dreading. I reached into my bouquet, fingers closing around the soft cashmere I'd hidden there. The familiar texture made my throat tight with memory.

"I have something to show you," I said, pulling out the scarf.

Tristan's face went completely still. I heard Isolde's soft gasp from the front row.

"You kept it." His voice was barely audible.

My hands trembled as I held the scarf between us. "I threw it in the trash that night. You saw me do it." Tears spilled down my cheeks despite my efforts to stay composed. "But later, when you were gone, I went back and dug through the garbage until I found it."

Tristan's eyes filled with tears.

"Even when I hated you," I continued, my voice breaking, "even when I thought I'd never forgive you, I couldn't let it go. Because somewhere deep down, I knew you weren't really the cruel man who'd hurt me. This scarf represented the real you—the one who cared enough to notice when I was cold."

His hand rose to cup my cheek. "Lyss..."