Camille Syanna
I had only pictured myself marrying Zanti since I was ten. He was this dream I kept looking forward to but never really had. My so near, yet so far. Who would've ever thought that none of Nisha and I would have him at the altar to exchange vows with? I knew we hadn't.
But I couldn't be more glad for how things turned out. I didn't have the man of my dreams, but I found the man of my reality. The one who would make me feel that everything, no matter how beautiful, perfect, and delusory, was as real as it gets.
Zayn Andrei is it for me.
"Oh, please, don't cry," Nisha panicked when she noticed tears forming from the corner of my eyes. I just had my makeup redone from crying ten minutes ago. "We need to be at the church in fifteen minutes. There's no time to doll you up again and make you pretty."
"I'm sorry," I told her, sobbing. "I'm just so happy. And emotional! My baby is making me cry!"
I would blame it on my child for as long as I could. I only told my parents and my best friends about my pregnancy. I hadn't gained much weight, and my stomach was still the same.
When ZA proposed to me two weeks ago, we decided to have it immediately. And it wasn't too much work since I'd already planned my wedding since I was little and didn't know what marriage was really like. It was all in the book I put up, which I revised from time to time as I grew older. I knew it would be in great use someday. And that someday is now.
Chiara collaborated with Tom Ford in designing my wedding dress. How did she do all the work on such short notice? I had no idea.
But I loved it! Every intricate detail of it replicated the dress I wore as I closed my eyes when I was five and imagined marrying a prince after watching Cinderella.
A glittery-floral ball gown with see-through neck long sleeves in a flattering combination of ivory, candy pink, and champagne. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever worn.
"Hey! We're leaving in five," Chiara peeked through the door and shot me a glare. "Stop crying!"
Nisha laughed and helped with my veil. "Let's go. She better not come back to call us again, or we're both dead."
I laughed at that too. Of the three of us, Chiara was the most uptight. Everything in her life was organized and planned from top to bottom, or else she wasted her precious time.
When we came out, we caught her kissing her husband goodbye, pushing him out the door with their two-year-old son. I couldn't believe we'd all grown up just like that. Yesterday, we were these pre-teens excited about everything adults do, practicing kisses with one another and sharing secrets. Now, they're both mothers and soon I will be, too.
Nisha and Chi rode the limousine with me. We were halfway to the church when Chiara laughed out of nowhere. We both shot her a skeptical glance.
"How did we get ourselves tied up with another set of best friends? I had no clue," she made a face. "Best friends? Ah, they're ruining the word for us. They called each other comrades."
Nisha and I chuckled.
"As if comrades made it any more masculine," I rolled my eyes. "Not a day goes by where ZA hasn't received a call from Red."
"ZA calls Three every time," Nisha giggled, slightly covering her mouth to maintain her poise. "Mostly before midnight!"
"And Tristan was hardly not in my house," Chiara added. "They can't live without each other. They're that needy!"
"I know! Throw them a Louis Vuitton, and they're practically us!" Ah, I missed these conversations with my girls!
Everything was ready when we reached the church. My heart was pounding with so much happiness because this was it—the start of my forever with ZA.
