Tamanna - Part One.
“You are my darling, my one true love, my everything. Tamanna, will you please do me the absolute honour of marrying me, and being my wife?”
That day altered my perception on life completely. I now understand what everyone means when they say love conquers all.
The one I love wears a beautiful dress, just past knee length, with a white, chiffon skirt, a tight lacy bodice carefully detailed, decorated pearls and lace flowers. It has three quarter length sleeves, continuing the lace down the arms. The venue where the rest of our life begins is the most stunning, picturesque scene. Sharp jade green grass covers the area, the odd wildflower speckled around. The building shocked me once I laid my chocolate brown eyes on its beauty. The large stone church took my breath away, and I fell in love with it once I saw the vintage side of it. The theme is, of course, vintage. Vintage clothing, vintage decorations, and vintage hairstyles. My dream.
The bridesmaids wear short black dresses. Shorter than ours, but not overly short. They reach around mid-thigh to the knee, and when I saw them, I knew they had to be ours. They were a silky smooth satin looking fabric, with a large bow tied around the waist of the black dresses; they had a low neckline, but weren’t plunging, so were decent.
I wear a similar dress to my fiancée, same length, same basic design, however, it is completely lace, and doesn't have such a flowing skirt, and its yellow undertones compliment my skin tone perfectly, its sleeves are short, and its collar higher up on my body.
This, without a shadow of a doubt, will be the greatest day of my life.
My fiancée stands at the front, waiting for my presence, holding her small hands together (She does this when she’s nervous), her posture slightly slumped, with some worry in her soft features. I take a minute just to look through the thin gap between the large oak doors, and stare at the epitome of perfect standing waiting for me. I notice her honey brown hair has been left in its natural waves, but has been pinned up, showing her curls, but making it look far shorter than reality. On her feet, she wears white heeled ankle boots, covering her entire foot, with laces for her to tie up to secure them to her feet, promising her that they won’t fall off.
I turn away, and look at my reflection in the mirror on the left side of me.
My dark brown, almost black, hair is sitting at the nape of my neck in a large bun. They had to straighten my wild curls to achieve this perfect, neat, hairstyle. It’s not standing alone; it has a dazzlingly gorgeous yet bulky hairpiece placed in the exact middle. My eyes turn down, and I see my shoes, they are the same style as my fiancée’s, just in a slightly faded white colour, but they look far better on her feet than mine. I’m also wearing tights, not black ones, not skin tone, sort of in the middle, and they make the whole outfit flawless.
I hear the music, starting the racing of my heart. I tear my eyes away from the image of myself, and pick up my bouquet of flowers, gripping them hard for support.
Everyone’s going to stare at me, I can’t do this!
My heart skips a beat.
Yes you can, I tell myself with a smile on my lips, she loves you.
Someone on the other side opens the wide doors, and I feel everyone’s eyes turn to me, their stares burning through my petite figure.
But I can’t tear mine away from the girl standing a whole 10 metres in front of me.
I want to run to her, feel her embrace, feel her strong arms wrapped around my fragile body, smell her welcoming scent, feel her loud heart beat through me, her warm lips touch my cold forehead.
But I know I can’t, I must walk calmly and carefully down this insanely long aisle, never breaking my pace, it may take a while, but I will be with my darling fiancée, soon to be wife.
I reach her, feel her slightly clammy hand in my dry one, our hands fit together perfectly, and I pass my bouquet over to one of my bridesmaids, who is standing near.
I stand opposite her, and look into her strange eyes, green yet blue, and many emotions swirling around inside them, much like mine, I know that they are filled with utter adoration for this person.
I barely notice what’s being said, I can’t break my stare, I haven’t seen this girl in so long, I missed her greatly.
It’s time to say our vows, I speak of how much she makes me laugh, and that I would be inadequate without her, a lost soul without her, nothing without her.
To finalize this proclamation of love, I say, “There aren’t enough words in this world to express how much I care about you, no words to explain the love I have for you, and one word I can use to explain you. Perfect.”
A chorus of Awwws are heard, which makes us both laugh a little, then she speaks.
“Tamanna, you are my world, you cheer me up when no one else can, you understand me completely, and you make me smile so wide I think my face will be forever stretched,” she pauses and a smile tugs at her lips, “You mean everything to me, and I love you.”
I giggled at her words, knowing that they were true, but she would rather not say them out loud, she doesn’t like people knowing her feelings.
We picked up our rings, but before we slid them onto each other’s fingers, we both noticed the engravings on the inside.
‘Freaks Of Nature.’
I smiled widely at her, and she responded with a smirk, and we both slid the rings on each other’s fingers, making a promise to each other, that we will never ever leave one another.
