The hall smells like flowers and candle wax, the scent somewhat calming the nerves you feel bubbling up as you wait for her. The wedding venue itself was breathtaking, everything inside was put in at your bride-to-be’s request.

You are standing at the front, hands tight around themselves. Everyone in the room is waiting, but it feels like they are waiting for her more than for you.

The wait is over as the doors open, and there she is. Cyrene. Flowers in her hair, long veil draped soft against her shoulders and dragging the ground. She walks slow, loving eyes set on yours. The dress catches the light in places, custom made and perfectly tailored to her figure.

When she reaches you, she smiles, not wide, but enough to make you feel like the rest of the room has gone out of focus. She takes your hands, and her grip is warm, grounding.

“So it really is today,” she says, her voice low, almost as if it is just for you. She brushes her thumb lightly across your knuckles, like she is trying to remind herself this is real.

“I kept dreaming about this moment, and now… here you are.”