Chapter 112 Chapter 112
I didn’t answer right away, not because I doubted it but because the weight of that question carried years inside it. Marriage wasn’t a party or a ceremony. It was permanent, public, and binding in ways a contract could never compete with. I tilted her chin up gently so she looked at me.
“I was ready the moment you stayed,” I said.
Her eyes softened, and she pressed closer like she was anchoring herself there. The room felt smaller, quieter, like the world had stepped outside politely to give us space. We stayed like that for a long time. No rush, no countdown. Just breathing, warmth, and the steady awareness that everything ahead of us was moving in the right direction. Eventually she stood, pulling me with her.
“Come on,” she said, tugging my hand toward the hallway.
“Where were we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She led me into the bedroom, shutting the door behind us, and the rest of the night folded into quiet intimacy and soft laughter and moments that belonged to us alone.
Tessa
The final dress fitting was supposed to feel magical and calm and movie perfect. That was what every wedding magazine and social media post kept promising. Soft music, emotional tears, champagne clinks, and maybe a slow spin in front of mirrors while everyone clapped like I had just won an Olympic medal for surviving lace and tulle.
Reality was a little messier. Not bad, messy but real life, layered with nerves, excitement, and that strange floating feeling like everything was moving too fast and too slow at the same time.
The boutique looked even fancier than I remembered. Same polished windows, same gold lettering, same doorman who opened the door like he had been waiting his entire life just to welcome brides inside. I still felt slightly underdressed walking through those doors, even though I knew I technically could afford the entire building now if I wanted to. Money changed comfort, but it didn’t erase old habits overnight.
Alina walked beside me, holding my arm like she was scared I might evaporate before we reached the fitting room.
“You barely slept,” she said, glancing at my face like she was inspecting for damage.
“I slept,” I lied.
“You tossed and turned,” she corrected easily. “Zaiel texted me.”
I stopped walking. “He snitched on me?”
“He was worried,” she said gently.
That made my chest warm and heavy at the same time. Zaiel never hovered, never pressured, and never tried to micromanage my feelings, but he noticed everything. He stored tiny details away like they mattered, and honestly, they usually did.
“I was excited,” I said finally.
“And scared,” she added softly.
I nodded once. She squeezed my hand and smiled like she understood that exact mix of emotions without needing me to explain it out loud.
The private salon upstairs was already buzzing when we walked in. Aunt Rosetta and Aunt Tina sat on the long couch sipping coffee like judges preparing for a fashion trial. Michelle and Shea were arguing over tablet photos of flower arches. Daliah had a binder that looked thick enough to stop bullets. Kevin, Andrew, and Damon were fighting over who got control of the snack tray like it was a high-stakes tournament.
“The bride has arrived!” Kevin announced dramatically.
“Calm down,” Damon muttered without looking up from his phone.
Hannah sat near the window flipping through a magazine quietly. She looked up and gave me a small nod when I walked in. Not overly emotional, not distant either. Just neutral. That was her style now, and honestly, I respected it. She had been trying in her own quiet way, and I saw it.
Mara, my consultant, approached with that same calm energy she always carried. I swear she never rushed, never stressed, and never blinked too fast. If the building caught fire, she would probably guide everyone out while offering tea.
“Are you ready?” she asked gently.
“I think so.”
“Good answer,” she said with a smile.
She led me into the dressing suite, where my dress waited behind a curtain like it had its own VIP section. My stomach flipped just looking at the silhouette through the fabric cover.
“You still feel good about it?” she asked while unzipping the protective bag.
“I feel terrified about it,” I admitted.
She smiled. “That usually means yes.”
The dress slipped over my shoulders slowly, carefully, layer by layer. Wedding dresses were ridiculous engineering projects disguised as romance. Hooks, hidden stitching, support panels, and fabric that felt like it belonged in an art museum instead of on a human body.
When she finished adjusting the back, she stepped aside and let me turn toward the mirror.
The breath left my chest automatically. It still felt right. Not flashy, not overwhelming, just… me. Elegant without trying too hard, soft but strong. The structure hugged in the right places and moved when I stepped, like it understood I needed freedom to breathe.
“You want to show them?” Mara asked quietly.
I nodded. Walking out onto the platform felt different this time. The room went silent almost instantly. Not loud silence, not shocked silence. Just like that, everyone leaned forward like they were afraid to blink and miss something.
Alina’s eyes filled immediately. She pressed her fingers against her mouth like she was trying to hold emotions inside and failing badly.
“Oh my god,” Michelle whispered.
Shea nodded slowly like she was approving a business contract worth millions.
Rosetta fanned herself dramatically. “I need water.”
Tina wiped her eyes openly. “I’m not even pretending to stay composed anymore.”
Kevin just stared. “Okay… yeah… that one wins.”
Andrew actually stayed quiet, which honestly shocked me more than compliments would have. Damon gave a single nod like final confirmation from the calmest judge in existence.
Hannah stood and walked closer, studying the dress carefully. For a second I thought she might stay neutral again, but then she smiled slightly.
“You look happy,” she said.
“I am,” I answered.
“That’s all that matters,” she said simply before stepping back.
Alina finally stood and walked toward me slowly, like she was approaching something fragile and sacred. She touched the edge of the fabric near my waist, fingers trembling slightly.
“You look like family,” she whispered.
That sentence hit harder than any compliment about beauty ever could. My throat tightened, and I had to blink fast before I ruined the makeup trial already sitting on my face.
“I feel like family,” I said quietly.
She hugged me carefully, making sure she didn’t wrinkle anything, and I hugged her back just as tight.
The fitting lasted another hour. Minor adjustments. Train measurements. Shoe height confirmations. Veil testing. Apparently veils had personalities too. One made me feel like royalty. Another made me feel like I was about to join a haunted monastery.
We picked the simpler one. Elegant, soft, and dramatic only when the light hit it right. It matched the dress without stealing attention, which honestly felt like a metaphor for the entire wedding vibe we were building.
While Mara pinned final adjustments, the cousins drifted back into chaotic side conversations.