Taking A Chance On Love || m.t.

七 The Wedding

I was getting married. I still couldn't believe it, even though I was currently sitting in the bride's room in a lavish South Korean wedding hall. Alone except for the attendants hired to help me dress, I fell into a reverie at how I went from single Essie Asare to the future Mrs. Tuan...all in the space of 10 months.

The past 4 months had been a whirlwind I was still reeling from. As soon as Mark and I decided to get married, we chose to tell our families first, disregarding the so-called deadline his company gave us. After the unsurprisingly simple parents meeting, we left the wedding planning to our mothers. Now officially best friends, our mothers threw themselves and our fathers' wallets into wedding planning, occasionally dragging us to this tasting and that fitting, armed with a massive binder we'd nicknamed "The Playbook" because of how often our moms consulted and wrote in it.

A few hours after the deadline, we also informed the company and let them release news that we were engaged to be married and would appreciate some privacy as we prepared for our impending nuptials. I intentionally stayed far away from the tabloids and almost all social media, knowing how polarizing the articles and subsequent comments would be to the general populace. The only thing I knew was that some artists who were friends with GOT7 expressed their goodwill along with the other 6 group members, and that Naver broke down temporarily within hours of the press release.

Between fittings and hiding from our moms, Mark and I went on dates almost every day, as if we were trying to get as much time to be normal as possible before our lives changed forever. After settling my Korean identity documents and flying back and forth secretly to look for a place to live, we bought an apartment in a high security building that was thankfully moderately priced in Gyeonggi-do, also buying a small car to help with the commute to Seoul. After signing the papers, we let friends and family help decorate the place and moved most of our things in before holding a Korean style engagement and housewarming party where Mark and I both wore beautiful traditional hanbok and took more pictures than I could count. We made sure that we tied up any loose ends so that we could fully enjoy the wedding in Korea.

The wedding. Of course. I snapped back to my current surroundings as I heard the sounds of incoming people. The door swung open to reveal Mark. It felt like time had stopped. He was dressed in a jet black tuxedo with tiny crystals dotting his shimmering satin lapels, his hair combed back to show off his handsome face that was currently wide eyed in what I hoped was a good shock. He closed the door without looking away from me and walked slowly, taking in my appearance. I wore a sweetheart neckline dress with fitted lace draped over the bodice and shoulders down to my elbows, ending in airy belled out sleeves. The waist was corseted to accentuate my curves, and the lace continued in an appliqué all the way through the flared skirt, little crystals dotted here and there to make the dress shimmer. Atop my innumerably pinned chignon was a small tiara attached to a long crystal-dotted lace veil that trailed the floor. I had not yet placed the veil over my face, so I had an unobstructed view of the man I was about to wed.

I beamed at him despite my nervousness and patted the space next to me in invitation. He sat down, eyes still glued to my face.

"You look breathtaking," he said, gently taking my hand and kissing it. "I'd kiss you but something tells me the makeup artist isn't gonna like it."

We laughed heartily, relishing the moment.

"You clean up well, whoever chose that hairstyle should get a raise," I said appreciatively.

"Well that would be me, I know your preferences," he teased.

"Oh," I said with an exaggerated nod. "Then in that case take it up with HR, cause I can't pay you."

"Yeah you can," he said with a mischievous grin, his eyes insinuating something as the attendants nearby looked away in obvious embarrassment.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, I know what you're thinking!" I laughed as my face heated up.