𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 [𝟏𝟖+]✓

38

6k words chapter. Enjoy!!

Can I get 320 comments ? The next one should have smut and I know for a fact that it will drain all my writing capacity.

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The air was crisp with the kind of chill that stung your cheeks but left your heart warm if you were in good company—and today, we all were. Snow dusted the streets of New York like a postcard come to life. Against this picturesque backdrop stood the grand hall where Tyrone and Celestina would exchange their vows. Inside, soft candlelight reflected off the crystal chandeliers, bathing the room in a golden glow that complemented the ivory and silver decor. Not that I was paying much attention to the decor. My focus was on the photographers.

"Capture her silhouette as she steps onto the runner—no, no, from the left!" I called out, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I gestured emphatically toward the aisle. "The lighting from that angle will frame her perfectly against the stained-glass windows. And for heaven's sake, make sure the train is in full view. It's a masterpiece."

Celestina looked radiant, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun adorned with crystal pins that sparkled like snowflakes. Her dress—a fitted, off-shoulder gown with intricate lacework—was a testament to Eirlys' talent. Speaking of whom, Eirlys stood nearby, her eyes gleaming with pride as she whispered something to her husband, Rodger, who chuckled in return.

"She looks stunning," Eirlys murmured. "I told her this cut would highlight her shoulders perfectly."

Rodger, ever the joker, grinned. "You're fishing for compliments, aren't you, sweetheart?."

I might have smiled if I wasn't so preoccupied.

"Rosaleigh, stand a bit closer to Celestina, but don't overshadow her," I directed. Rosaleigh, cheerful as ever, nodded and adjusted her position. She was the maid of honor, and her light pink gown was a perfect contrast to Celestina's white. Xayvion, standing across from her as one of Tyrone's groomsmen, was already cracking jokes under his breath, earning an exasperated glance from Cyrus, the best man.

I spared my fiance a glance as I repositioned myself near the aisle. Tall, composed, and infuriatingly calm, he stood like a stoic guardian next to Tyrone. His heterochromatic eyes—brown today, amused by something, or someone—briefly met mine before he turned his attention back to Tyrone.

When the music swelled and the doors opened, all eyes turned to Celestina. She was breathtaking. Tyrone's expression softened the moment he saw her, the years of trials and tribulations they'd faced melting away in an instant.

As she made her way down the aisle, I couldn't help but bark out instructions to the photographers. "Get her father's hand on hers. No, wider frame!"

"Saoirse," Hayden's low voice cut through my flurry of commands. "Relax. They'll get it."

I didn't look at him. Instead, I gestured toward the lead photographer. "Make sure her expression is in focus as she looks up at Tyrone."

"She's going to scare them into retirement." Xayvion muttered behind me.

I didn't dignify that with a response.

The ceremony itself was as heartfelt as it was beautiful. Tyrone spoke his vows with a tenderness I hadn't seen from him before, his deep voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. Celestina, for all her youthful energy, was calm and poised, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears as she slipped the ring onto his finger. I made a mental note to remind the photographers to capture the moment the light caught the diamond on her hand. When they kissed, the room erupted into applause. I found myself clapping too, though my mind was already on the next sequence of photos.