It's the happiest day of my life.
As my mother smoothes over my dress, I admire my reflection in the mirror. The dress was finely crafted---exquisite up to the smallest details. I gently run my fingers over the ruffles and lace that adorned the hem. Black isn't very traditional, to say the least. But it's very me, and that's all that matters.
My mother arranges the veil and the tiara over my head, stepping back to look over me with tears in her eyes.
"I can't believe this day has finally come,"
I smile at her words. Neither can I.
The moment I step out of the changing room, I am greeted with elated gasps and words of praise.
The outer room of the church is filled with close family friends. People who have watched me grow up, who have seen me in each stage of my life. Tears begin to well up in my eyes from the happy feeling that threatens to burst my chest open. I'm so blessed to be able to celebrate this day with the people I love.
I suck in a breath and try to keep my emotions in line. The ceremony hadn't even begun.
"Now we just need to wait for the groom!" I hear one of them say.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the mention of him. The groom. The love of my life. I can't wait to see him. The black suit would definitely bring out his-
His-
What color were his eyes again?
My mind suddenly blanks.
I can't remember his face, but I know he has brown hair-
or was it blonde?
An unsettling feeling washes over me as I try to paint a mental image of the man I'm about to marry---all to no avail.
Not only his appearance, I seem to have forgotten his voice, his personality, everything about him.
It's like I don't know him at all.
The rev of a car engine snaps me out of my reverie, along with the crowd rushing outside to get a look at the groom.
I'll remember once I see him, I think to myself.
Lifting the front of my dress, I head outside.
Several cars have arrived on the venue. I subconsciously begin to twiddle the ruffles as I await.
From the first car, two men step out. I've never seen any of them before. One was short, blonde, with glasses. The other was taller with darker hair.
One of the wedding hosts asks them, "So which one is the groom?"
The taller one replies. "That's not important, we'll see you at the altar."
The two men leave afterwards.
His response puzzles me, does no one here know who the groom is? Maybe I should go to the altar, he might be there.
The host returns to his previous position, stopping to chat with one of the guests.
"Hey, so does it have to be crucifixion, or can you guys choose?" the guest asks.
"Oh, no, you get to choose," says the host. "Drowning, poison, whatever is easier for you."
I stop in my tracks, heels clacking to a sudden halt. My mind clears. Cold sweat begins to trickle down my back. The happy feeling in my chest wrinkles into a cold chill.
It all makes more sense now.
My senses return to me as if just awakened from a fever dream.
I've never met the groom. He has never met me. And it doesn't matter, because we won't have the time to get to know each other---much less fall in love.
The tears return, but for a completely different reason.
This is not the happiest day of my life.
It's the last.
