Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"Oh, tell me you love me, I need someone on days like this, I do."
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The morning sun streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a golden glow, but the warmth did little to soothe the chill in my heart.
The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation as the stylists bustled around, their hands working expertly to transform me into the perfect bride.
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I glanced at my reflection, my eyes catching on the delicate lace of the white gown, the intricate beadwork shimmering softly. It was beautiful. Lola had outdone herself, but despite the beauty of the dress, my chest felt heavy, a knot of anxiety tightening with every passing moment.
I was already married. The ceremony today was merely a spectacle for the world to see, another part of the illusion we were weaving.
Yet, my heart thudded unevenly, dread curling in my stomach as I wondered what would come after.
A soft knock sounded at the door and the girls filed in, all dressed up to the nines, their faces lighting up as they saw me. Reina's eyes sparkled with excitement as she clapped her hands together.
"Oh my god, Azalea! You look breathtaking!" She squealed and hugged me lightly, careful not to ruin my hair or makeup.
"You look like a princess." Nikki's eyes grew misty, her hands clasped to her chest.
"No, she looks like a queen. Harlan won't know what hit him." Sam grinned, her confidence shining through.
"Unless she hits him," Lola spoke with a subtle smirk, fussing over my dress and telling the stylists what to do, "You look amazing, by the way. The dress does you justice."
"Thank you, all of you." I smiled at them, trying to absorb their excitement but my heart wasn't in it. I looked away, my eyes drifting to the window and to the clear blue sky beyond. A sky that stretched endlessly, free and unburdened. Unlike me.
A pang of longing pierced me, sharper than any pain I'd felt before. I missed my mum. I missed her so much it hurt.
My throat tightened, the ache in my chest growing as I imagined my mother standing beside me, her eyes shining with pride, her gentle smile warming my heart. She would've fixed my veil, her fingers soft and warm as she fussed over me, her voice soothing as she whispered words of love and encouragement.
