Elena's POV
Morning light filtered gently through the curtains, but inside me, the air was heavy with expectation. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life but the version of me who dreamt of a loving wedding, tears of joy, and my mother walking down the aisle beside me... she felt more like a distant memory.
I sat on the edge of the bed, gown hanging in the closet like a promise I wasn't sure I wanted fulfilled. My father's absence in her place felt like a hollow echo. I kept my hands clasped tightly in my lap to stop them from trembling. I missed her so much, I thought I might break and yet, I repeated the words again, the mantra that had become my lifeline: I will not cry. I will be strong.
I went to have my bath and sat down on the bed.
The soft knock on the door was as expected as the sunrise.
"Miss Clark, the makeup artist and hairstylist are ready," came the gentle voice of Mrs. Turner, Justin's chief stylist.
I stood, smoothing the pleats of my robe, and forced a calm smile.
"Thank you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt
As I stepped into the suite the stylists had prepared a private oasis of white roses and soft satin I saw someone I hadn't expected. Justin's mother, Evelyn, was seated quietly in an armchair by the window, her expression serene. She looked radiant in a pale lavender dress, hands clasped together.
I paused for a moment, surprised.
"Good morning, dear," she said gently, standing to greet me with a warm smile. She reached for my hands. "I wanted to be here before everyone else."
I swallowed hard. The enormity of the day without my mom beside me pressed on my chest.
"I heard you last night," she said softly, her eyes filled with empathy. "You're stronger than you know."
I forced a little smile, looking down at her hands holding mine.
"Can I… pray with you?" she asked, voice quiet.
I'd never prayed with someone I barely knew, but her warmth felt like grace, and something inside me wanted to believe in protection and love today.
She closed her eyes, squeezing my hands lightly. Her voice moved with steady prayers over me requests for calm, safety, and that tranquility find me in every moment of this turbulent day.
When she finished, she opened her eyes with a gentle smile that brought tears to my own. She brushed my cheek with the back of her fingers.
"Remember," she whispered, "boring places your hands in mine, even if he's hard on the surface believe in his heart. Today, you begin a new chapter."
Before I could respond, the stylists whisked in to start their work. I found myself comforted as they tucked me into the chair and fastened a delicate and quiet veil inside my hair. I breathed in deeply, holding Mrs Shawn words close, as eyeshadow was applied and hair twisted into elegant waves.
Fifty minutes later, they held up a full-length mirror. I stared at the reflection: a bride in ivory lace and soft curls, eyes bright with unshed tears.
Mrs Shawn stood beside me, brushing away a stray hair. "You look breathtaking."
I blinked back emotion. "It's... so much."
She smiled knowingly. "It's a new beginning."
I closed my eyes, letting her words sink in. I wanted to cry, so badly but I wouldn't. I opened my eyes, straightened my shoulders, and nodded.
Next came the big moment: slipping into the wedding gown. The designer assistant Mrs. Klein lifted the dress over my shoulders and zipped me in with precision. The fit was perfect, the lace brushing my arms like a whisper. As I gazed at myself, I finally saw her.
My best friend, Ava, arrived just then. She gasped when she saw me, her hand covering her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh my god, Lena," she breathed. "You look... stunning. Absolutely stunning."
I swallowed, my pulse racing. "Thank you," I said softly. "It's... a lot."
She took my hands. "It's your day. And you deserve every bit of this."
I squeezed her hands back. "Thank you, Ava. It means the world."
Photographers arrived early, capturing every angle: my dress, bouquet of white lilies, me smiling at my reflection, me laughing with Ava. It felt like a movie set, but in the best possible way. I looked at myself in the camera lens and thought this could be me. Genuine. Strong. Loved.
They captured candid moments: my hands trembling slightly as I adjusted the veil, Ava brushing a curl away from my face, Mrs shawn proud smile as she watched me. Each image told a story of quiet courage.
Mrs. Turner returned for final touch-ups: soft pink lipstick, gentle blush highlights, veil pinned to perfection.
Nurses delivered my bouquet: white lilies and pale roses tied with satin ribbon. I inhaled and closed my eyes, holding the bouquet as though it contained all my strength.
A sleek white limousine awaited outside. I descended the penthouse stairs with Mrs Shawn at my side. She slid her arm around mine and smiled.
"Ready, darling?" she asked.
I nodded, breath catching as I stepped carefully into the limo. Mrs Shawn squeezed my hand once more.
"You're going to shine," she whispered. "Everything's going to be fine."
She climbed in, and the doors closed. I placed my bouquet on my lap, smoothing my dress. My heart pounded as the car glided through the city.
We pulled up at St. Helena's Cathedral. I recognized the grand steps. The morning sun cast a warm glow on the stone facade. My chest tightened as I gathered my bouquet and stepped onto the cobblestones.
The red carpet was laid. Photographers pressed in, snapping quickly as I walked toward the doors. My eyes caught my father waiting weathered, worried but so proud.
I swallowed hard and breathed out his name.
He held my hand as I stepped over the threshold.
Inside, soft classical music played. Bridesmaids wore pale blush gowns; groomsmen were in sharp black tuxes. Row upon row of guests sat in anticipation. My heart thudded in my throat. Most of the people here I don't recognize them.
Then I saw him.
Justin stood at the altar tall, poised, immaculately dressed, crisp black suit and tie. His expression was calm, almost stoic, but his eyes locked on me with a still command that sent shivers through me.
My father squeezed my hand, and we began to walk. Each step brought memories rushing of longing, fear, hope, struggle. I kept my eyes on the carpet, breathing steadily as we moved forward.
At the halfway point, I lifted my gaze and met Justin's eyes. His jaw tightened; for a moment, a flicker of softness or concern passed. Then it vanished and his posture shifted, returning to formality.
My breath caught in my chest. I refused to cry.
We reached the altar. My father opened his arms, and I moved into them. He held me close, voice trembling, blessing me with pride and love.
"You're going to be more than okay, Elena," he whispered, kissing my forehead. A few tears slipped down his cheek but I held firm. " Sorry for making you go through all this",he said .
Hand in hand, we stepped back. I took in Justin's mother and father: Evelyn's proud smile, Robert's steady gaze. The officiant a family friend smiled warmly.
Soft organ music filled the cathedral as the priest began.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Elena Rebecca Clark and Justin Robert Shawn…"
I swallowed, my voice steady.
"If anyone knows a reason why these two should not be legally wed, speak now…"
Silence.
"Elena, do you take Justin to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"
I cleared my throat, voice quiet but clear.
"I do."
"Justin, do you take Elena to be your lawfully wedded wife…?"
He nodded more than smiled.
"I do."
My voice trembled as I opened the small folder I carried.
"Justin, I stand here today not with a heart full of love, but with a heart full of courage. Love hasn't come easy to me, but being courageous has that I've learned. You've taught me to stand my ground, to be stronger than my fears, and for that, I am grateful."
I paused, blinking back tears.
"I vow to stand by you as a partner in both image and reality. I vow to be present in this life we build together even if I don't fully understand what that will become."
I looked up at him. He was silent, eyes steady.
"I will be patient, and hopeful even if I don't see a path forward today. I promise to walk this path with you."
I struggled not to start crying, throat tight.
He swallowed before speaking.
"Elena, I… I admire your strength. I won't pretend I understand everything you bring to this marriage, but I promise to respect you. I promise to protect your dignity, even if… even if love doesn't come easy to me. Today, I vow to try."
His voice caught. He paused.
He looked into my eyes.
Then the priest pronounced us husband and wife.
"Justin, you may kiss the bride."
He leaned closer, gently cupping my face with one hand, his lips brushing softly against mine. It was a single, simple kiss And yet, for me, it broke something open. A seed of possibility.
The cathedral erupted in soft applause. I felt a quiet tremble of emotion ripple through me not grief, but something fragile and new.
We exited hand in hand, walking down the aisle toward our future. Each flash of the camera felt less like cages snapping shut, and more like keys unlocking the next chapter. My heart pounded, tears glistened, but I swallowed them back.
Outside, the air was warm, filled with the scent of spring flowers and perfume. Guests pressed forward: smiles, congratulations, warm embraces.
Evelyn(Justin's mother)hugged me fiercely. "You did it, darling."
Robert clasped my hand, pride in his eyes.
My father's face was glowing. He said softly, "You're braver than you know."
Sitting in the back of the limo, passing beneath golden trees on our way to the reception, I finally let the corners of my mouth lift, in a fragile smile. I felt a flicker of light in the vows, in the kiss, in the strength I discovered in my own voice.
Today I became Mrs. Shawn. Not out of love, but out of purpose. But the curve of his mouth, the softness in his eyes something started shifting. A small shift, but real.
I exhaled and closed my eyes.
I didn't cry.