𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑺 - 𝑹.𝑵𝑰𝑲𝑶𝑳𝑨𝑰

chapter 41

FOURTY ONE

The ceremony was over, and the moment the final applause died down, Nikolai bolted — suit and all — like a madman on fire and joy, shouting at the top of his lungs,

"I'M MARRIED!!"

His white-gloved hands flailed in the air as he ran straight toward Fyodor and Sigma, who had only just composed themselves. Fyodor, arms crossed and expression cool, subtly turned his face away, as if the remnants of tears still lingered in his lashes. Sigma, on the other hand, was trying to dab his eyes with a handkerchief, only to be tackled in a spinning hug by the overexcited groom.

"I'm married, I'm married, Sigma! Can you believe it?!" Nikolai spun him around, almost lifting him off the ground. "And you thought I couldn't be tamed!"

"I still don't," Sigma wheezed, patting Nikolai's back. "You're just... selectively docile now."

Nikolai gave Fyodor an overly tight hug too — much to Fyodor's dismay. "You cried," he whispered smugly.

"I most certainly did not," Fyodor replied, deadpan. "That was Sigma's mascara."

"I'm not even wearing mascara," Sigma muttered.

Meanwhile, you had your own world to return to.

Your steps carried you, slower and softer now, toward the part of the crowd that mattered most. Your heels clicked gently against the stone, flowers brushing your gown's hem, the sound of laughter and fading music behind you.

And there he was — your father. Tall, regal, and proud. His black wings unfolded slightly at the sight of you, instinctively ready to shield, to embrace.

You didn't hesitate.

You stepped into his arms, and he welcomed you without a word, wrapping his massive wings around your smaller frame. The contrast was beautiful — his wings darker than midnight, and yours glistening like silver twilight. In his hold, you felt like a child again, but stronger. Grown.

He pressed a hand to your cheek, eyes gleaming as he smiled gently.

"My little owlet has grown up so much," he murmured, his voice rich with warmth and memory. "So radiant... like your mother when we first met. But stronger."

Your throat tightened. You hadn't seen him in so long. Not since Grandma's funeral — her last wish being that he visit more. He'd tried. Letters here and there, gifts mailed in ornate boxes, small attempts to connect.

And now here he was, looking at you like he never stopped.

"I missed you, Dad," you whispered.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I should've been there more." His hand lingered at your cheek. "But I am proud of you. And if this man truly makes you happy..." His gaze drifted over to where Nikolai was still running around like a child on cotton candy. "Then I'll give him a chance."

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "He does. He really does."

And then there was... her.

Your mother.

She was standing slightly off to the side, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line. Her makeup was immaculate, even in the moonlight, but her eyes were sharp — judgmental. Always judging.

You saw the way she delicately picked a fallen feather off her shoulder with a tsk, as if even your happiness had made a mess of her.

"Your wings are shedding," she muttered, dabbing her dress with a silk handkerchief. "Honestly, this venue... not even indoors. I hope you're not living a life like this."