Sugar and Smoke

Sugar and Smoke
The cheers still echo in my ears long after Kaiden and Hunter slip the rings onto my fingers. My hands shake when I look down at them—one gold, one silver—catching the fairy-light glow like they were made for this moment. For us. People pour in from every corner of the garden to congratulate us with laughter, handshakes, and kisses on both cheeks. Nonos and Nonnas, I’ve only met once, are suddenly hugging me like I’m one of their own. Someone presses a glass of sparkling water into my hand, and someone else calls me "bella sposa" (beautiful bride). It’s dizzying and wonderful.
Kaiden’s father, Luca, is the first to reach me, his grin wide and proud. “You’ve done the impossible, Alina,” he says, pulling me into a careful hug. “You’ve managed to tame my sons.”
I laugh softly. “I think ‘tame’ might be a stretch.”
“Maybe. But they’re happier than I’ve ever seen them.” He squeezes my shoulder before stepping back for Hunter’s father, Tony, who’s quieter, more reserved, but with the same kind eyes.
He nods once, a rare, warm smile ghosting across his face. “Welcome to the family, figlia mia (my daughter). You fit right in.”
That one gets me. My throat tightens. I nod, smiling even though my eyes sting.
Then Isla finally manages to break through the sea of people, hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed from excitement. She grabs my hands, her grin wide. “You’re engaged! Oh my god, you’re really engaged!”
I laugh, a sound bubbling out that I can’t contain. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
“It’s so much,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ve seen this much confetti since my baby shower.”
“It’s a lot in a good way,” I tell her. “I’m not used to it, but… I really like it. I’m excited to be a part of your family officially.”
Her expression softens. “You already were.”

I smile, feeling that warmth settle deep in my chest. “If I could just get one of those deep-fried pastries Hunter told me no to earlier, this night would be perfect.”
Isla follows my gaze to where a few of the made men corner the boys, all of them talking and laughing loudly, Hunter’s guard down for once. She smirks. “Come on. I’ll help you get one before he notices.”
We sneak off like a pair of teenagers, skirts brushing against the soft grass. The tables are only a little way away, half hidden behind a row of hedges where the catering staff have retreated to gossip and refill trays. My stomach growls just looking at the golden pastries glistening under the lights.
“Mission fritter success,” Isla whispers dramatically as she grabs a napkin.
Before we can even reach for one, Ariana’s voice floats over, sweet and suspicious. “And what are you two doing over here, looking like you’re planning a heist?”
We both freeze, caught like kids with our hands in the cookie jar. Isla doesn’t miss a beat. “Bean’s hungry,” she says, grinning. “And Hunter’s on a power trip.”
Ariana gasps, hand flying to her chest. “Madonna mia (My goodness), we can’t have that! Little Bean needs exactly what he wants!” She winks, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I’ll help.”

And just like that, the three of us—me, Isla, and Ariana—are crouched like secret agents at the buffet table, whisper-laughing as we pile pastries onto a plate. Ariana swats Isla’s hand when she tries to sneak one for herself.
“Hey!” Isla protests, muffled around a mouthful of sugar.
“Those are for my grandbaby,” Ariana scolds, smirking.
I’m laughing so hard I have to hold my belly, and Bean gives a small kick like he’s in on the joke. The laughter comes easily. Powdered sugar dusts my fingertips, Isla’s giggling like a kid, and Ariana’s pretending to scold us both.
“Don’t tell Hunter,” I whisper, biting into the pastry. The crunch is divine. “He’ll lecture me about trans fats or something.”
Ariana waves her hand. “If he complains, I’ll hit him with the tray.”
We all burst out laughing again, soft and breathless. The music from the garden hums behind us, warm and bright. Someone’s singing in Italian. Someone else is shouting for champagne. The world feels golden. For one precious second, it feels like everything in my life has settled into its perfect place.

Then the ground moves. Just slightly. Like the earth lets out a long, low groan. I blink, confused. Isla pauses mid-laugh. Ariana’s brows knit together, the tray halfway to her chest. And then it happens. The explosion hits like thunder made solid. A roaring shockwave tears through the air, swallowing the music, the laughter, everything. Fire and smoke erupt from the far side of the house, a blinding light that sears across the lawn. The ground lurches beneath us, and the world goes white.

I’m thrown backward before I can even scream. My ears ring, high and sharp. For a second, there’s nothing but chaos—heat, smoke, splintering glass raining down like glitter. I taste metal and I can’t tell if I’m breathing. When I blink the haze from my eyes, I’m on the ground. My back aches. My dress is torn. The garden, the perfect, glittering garden, is unrecognisable. Tables overturned, streamers burning, screams cutting through the ringing in my head.
“Alina!”
Isla’s voice is rough and trembling with terror. I turn my head and see her through the smoke. She’s crawling toward me, face streaked with soot, hair matted against her cheek. Ariana’s beside her, one arm wrapped around me before I can even move.
“Don’t—” I start, but my voice is gone, swallowed by the ringing.
A second later, another burst somewhere nearby sends debris crashing down. Both women move at once—Ariana throws herself across my chest, and Isla shields my stomach with her arm. Instinct. Fierce, maternal, desperate instincts. The impact rattles through me. Smoke thickens, tasting like iron and ash. I can’t see more than shadows, but I feel their weight pressing down, protective and trembling.
“Ari—Isla—” I manage, my voice breaking.
Ariana looks down at me, eyes wide and wet, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Isla’s shaking her head, whispering something I can’t hear. The world tilts again, the air filled with screams, sirens, and fire. And through it all, their faces hover above me—terrified, determined, love and fear burning through the smoke. For a second, everything slows. The confetti floats in the air again from the blast, blue and gold against the firelight. The rings on my fingers gleam faintly through the dust and then, as the world falls apart around us, I realise—This perfect day just ended.