I had always imagined my wedding in pieces.
Little fragments that visited me when I watched movies alone or flipped through bridal magazines long ago–dresses I’d never worn, vows I’d never spoken. But I never thought the dream would become real.
And certainly not like this.
Not in Paris. Not this softly. Not this completely.
The morning of the ceremony was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt sacred. A soft breeze blew in through the French windows of my suite, carrying the scent of fresh peonies and jasmine. My dress hung by the door–an elegant ivory silk gown with delicate lace sleeves and a plunging back. Simple. Timeless. Mine.
I sipped tea, watching the sky blush pink and lavender over the rooftops. My heart beat steadily, not in fear, but in something deeper- something peaceful.
This was the first day of my life where I didn’t feel like I owed anyone anything.
I heard a knock, and my stylist entered, smiling brightly. “Are you ready to become a bride?“}]
I smiled, more sure than I’d ever been. “Yes. Finally.“>
The garden was nestled behind a quiet chateau just outside Paris. Lanterns hung from the trees. White petals lined the stone path. There were no rows of hundreds, no spotlight, no chaos. Just those we loved. A handful of friends. His team. My design assistants. And of course, Riley–waiting beneath the old oak tree, in a perfectly tailored gray suit and that calm, steady smile that always grounded me.
When I stepped out, everyone rose. But my eyes were only on him.
He didn’t look at my dress. Or my hair. Or my bouquet.
He looked at me–like I was the first morning he’d ever seen.
I reached him and he took my hands.
“You look like every promise I’ve ever wanted to keep,” he whispered.
And I knew… I had chosen right.
The ceremony was short. Just our vows, personal and unrushed.
“I don’t promise perfection,” I told him, my voice trembling. “But I promise peace. I promise to build with you, not around you. To choose you, again and again, even when life tries to make us forget.“}
He held my hands tighter. “I don’t need perfection. I just need you. And if I spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you… it still won’t be enough. But I’ll do it anyway.“}
When we kissed, it was slow and deep.
The crowd clapped. But all I heard was the wind through the trees and the beat of his heart against mine.
Afterward, the reception spilled into the garden–string lights glowing overhead, a small jazz band playing in the corner, and our loved ones toasting with champagne.}
We didn’t need speeches.
We danced.&
Barefoot, under the stars, swaying to no rhythm but our own.
Later that night, we arrived at the small honeymoon villa Riley had kept secret from me until that very day.”
A restored stone cottage in the French countryside, with windows that opened into vineyards, and a bed that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.!
He carried me over the threshold.
“You didn’t have to,” I laughed, breathless.}
He kissed my shoulder. “Let me.“}
We didn’t rush
He unzipped my dress slowly, hands reverent, lips brushing every inch of skin as if memorizing it.
“I never thought I’d have this,” I whispered. “Not after everything.”
“You deserve everything,” he said, voice husky, eyes steady. “Every beginning, every second chance.”
And then he kissed me again–slowly, deeply, like he had all the time in the world.
That night, we didn’t just make love.
We rewrote the past
He kissed every scar. I held every promise. We tangled under the sheets until laughter became gasps, and gasps turned into silence–a silence that wasn’t empty, but full.
Full of something new.
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the window.
I woke up in his arms, tangled in white sheets and his scent–cedar, citrus, and something I could never name.!
He was still asleep, one arm around my waist.
I watched him breathe, steady and peaceful.
12:39 PM
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the window.
I woke up in his arms, tangled in white sheets and his scent–cedar, citrus, and something I could never name.
He was still asleep, one arm around my waist.”
I watched him breathe, steady and peaceful.
And I thought about the girl I used to be–the one who begged for breadcrumbs. The one who cried in silence. The one who believed love had to hurt.
That girl was gone now.
In her place was a woman who had survived.
A woman who said yes–not because she was afraid to be alone, but because she was finally whole enough to share her life with someone else.N
I reached for his hand, kissed his knuckles, and whispered, “Thank you for waiting.“}
His eyes fluttered open. “I’d wait a hundred lifetimes for you.”
Outside, the vineyard stretched endlessly. Birds sang. The world was soft again.
And in the stillness of that morning, wrapped in love and linen, I knew-
This was not a dream.
It was my life.
And it was just beginning.
الله الحمد
