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NIKA MÜHL (narrative)
The night before our wedding wasn't supposed to be anything grand. In fact, it was supposed to be simple—a quiet dinner with our closest family and friends before we retreated to separate spaces for the night. We both agreed to keep with the tradition of not seeing each other until I walked down the aisle, but of course, when it came to us, nothing ever went entirely as planned.
I sat on the couch in our little rental house, the one we'd booked for the wedding weekend, staring down at my hands as they rested on my lap. My fingers brushed over the gold band of my engagement ring, the one Rylee had slid onto my finger on that cliff in Seattle. It still felt surreal, even after months of wearing it.
The house was quiet now, everyone having gone to bed to rest up for the big day tomorrow. But my nerves wouldn't let me sleep, and judging by the soft knock on the door, Rylee's wouldn't either.
"Come in," I called softly, already knowing who it was.
The door creaked open, and there she was, leaning against the doorframe with a sheepish smile on her face. Her cast-free arm rested on the edge of the frame, while the other—the one still healing—was tucked protectively to her side.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, future Mrs. Hanson?" she teased, stepping into the room.
I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "I could say the same to you, future Mrs. Mühl."
Rylee chuckled, closing the door behind her. She crossed the room in a few strides and sat down next to me on the couch, her presence instantly grounding me.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "Too excited, I guess."
I raised an eyebrow, giving her a look. "Excited or nervous?"
She smirked, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "Maybe a little of both."
I reached out, brushing my fingers against her hand. "Me too."
For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of what tomorrow meant settling over us. It wasn't a bad kind of weight, though. It was the kind that reminded us of how far we'd come, of everything we'd been through to get here.
"I still can't believe this is happening," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "That tomorrow, we'll be married."
Rylee turned to me, her eyes full of that same mix of mischief and adoration that I'd fallen in love with. "Believe it, baby," she said, her voice warm and sure. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever."
My chest tightened at her words, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "You're so sappy," I murmured, though my voice cracked slightly.
She laughed, reaching up to cup my cheek. "You love it."
