Taking A Chance On Love || m.t.

八 Evening Festivities

A few hours later, I was in the adjoining room next to the reception room, awaiting my second dramatic entrance of the day. This time though, I wasn't entering as Miss Asare, but as Mrs. Tuan. I took a deep breath while the attendant helped cinch my red and gold corseted kaba¹ tighter to accentuate my waist. I ran my hands down my hand-woven Kente² slit skirt, admiring how well it hugged my hips and flared out at the knee, giving me a well defined hourglass silhouette. The side slit allowed my left calf to peek out ever so slightly, adding to the visual interest. Upon choosing and ordering the Kente design I wanted, it took a team of weavers, seamstresses, and tailors months to get this absolutely beautiful attire to its currently dazzling state, and it was well worth the time I had waited for it.

The door opened. I turned around to see Mark wearing a gold-embroidered red suit in the same shade as the red of my dress. His top was in the Mandarin collared style popularised during the Chinese Republican era, and he wore slim-fitted red pants that accentuated his long legs. Taking a moment to myself, I drank in his appearance, still not believing this handsome man with swept-back hair was now my husband. He walked up to me, waving the attendant out of the room. As soon as the door closed, he reached for my hips and pulled me flush against him before dipping his head to capture my lips in a searing kiss. At that moment, I was grateful I hadn't put on my lipstick yet. I knew he would try something like this, and my foresight proved to be correct as I giggled to myself.

"Something funny?" He asked as he gave me bedroom eyes that hinted at what he'd rather be doing instead of just talking.

"I knew you'd try to kiss me so I didn't put any lipstick on," I replied smugly, ignoring his intense gaze.

"Well that's obvious, have you seen yourself?" he said, running his hands up and down the curve of my waist and hips before crossing his arms at my butt with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes.

"Down, boy," I joked.

He took his hands off me and lifted them up in mock surrender, his smile growing into a boyish grin. Heart fluttering, I turned away from him toward the clock next to the vanity. He followed my line of sight.

"It's almost time to make our entrance. You ready?" He asked.

I nodded, then walked over to my makeup bag, pulling out my lipstick. I applied it carefully in the floor length mirror before turning to Mark.

"Time to go wow the guests," I said with a bright smile.

Mark and I had discussed the details of the wedding and were both in agreement that since 4 cultures were at play, we'd honor all 4. We would be living and working in Korea, so we wore traditional hanbok to our engagement party. Because we were both raised in America, we had a Western style wedding. Now that it was time for the reception, we agreed to each wear our own traditional clothing. I had assumed Mark would wear hanfu, but he thoughtfully considered that we'd look too different, and decided he'd match me in time period. As a result, he opted for a Republican era suit rather than an ancient era outfit.

We left the room hand in hand and slowly walked to the reception area. We entered the room to joyful laughter and applause. Making our way to the raised platform where our table stood, we were constantly showered with congratulations, compliments, and curious questions from my non-African guests, which we happily accepted and answered one by one.

After we sat down, it was time for the speeches, each one funnier and sweeter than the next. Between my father pointedly reminding Mark that though I had no brothers, I had numerous male cousins and uncles, to Mark's best friend regaling us with hilarious stories from years past, I was thoroughly enjoying myself.