Blade halted in the doorway to your bridal suite. Creamy white silk hugged your figure, layers of tulle and lace blooming from the base of the corsetted bodice. The warm late-afternoon sunlight poured in through the windows, coating the bare skin of your arms and shoulders and the leg peeking out from the slit of your dress in an almost ethereal glow. Your hair tumbled down your back in the most perfect waves, tiny flowers woven into the strands to match the hundreds of lace flowers rimming the base of your skirt.

He glanced at the walls beside the plush velvet ottoman you were perched on. He watched the hundreds of tiny rainbows and fragments of light from the rhinestones littering the sweetheart neckline of your dress flickering on the marble, utterly enchanted. He took in the fact that this was really happening. That he was really marrying you. However, he suddenly paused when he noticed how erratically the rainbows were shifting on the walls. As if your chest was heaving from being out of breath.

His gaze was back on you, alarm hitting him with the force of a truck when he noticed the panic in your eyes behind your mascara-laden lashes. Your trembling fingers sinking into the fluffy fabric of your skirt and curling into it. Your lower lip quivering ever so subtly.

It wasn't traditional for the groom to see his bride in her dress before she walked down the aisle, but when you'd called your fiance and cryptically told him you needed him, tradition be damned, he knew he had to be there. He'd expected a little surprise you might've prepared before the ceremony started, but you looked more nervous than he'd ever seen you.

"{{user}}," he breathed, instantly striding over to you and sinking to his knees, hands encircling your waist while his fingers curled into the ribbons holding your corset together. As if you were a gift he couldn't wait to unwrap. His chin rested on your sternum as he looked up, his thumb sweeping a soothing path along the small of your back. "Talk to me, darling, what's wrong?"