The Door

Gift of Love

Not much was understood about Amber King. In fact, when at long last it came time for her wedding, the chapel pews were quite empty on her side. Whether it was due to the simplicity of her lifestyle or the solitude in which she reveled in, I know not, but only a few close family members and a single friend came for her support.

Bleak, dull, and uneventful were the days that passed her by, though she hardly seemed to care. It was in her comprehension that leading a normal life meant being devoid of any unfortunate excitement such as loss or frequent suitors, yet still there was vacancy in her heart where purpose should have presided. For Amber, nothing felt extraordinary.

That is why, standing tall and proud before the groom and all of his company, a sense of helplessness overshadowed the bride's momentous occasion. Though the summertime bouquet in her hands suggested happiness with its peach and lavender blooms, the smile hoisting up the corners of her lips was false. Her heart often yearned for something greater, today being no different.

"Do you, Amber, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the preacher asked, catching her in the midst of a daydream. She raised her sapphire eyes and tilted back her pointed chin, regarding the man at her side with unmatched grace and elegance. He was the gift of love that life had bestowed upon her.

And yet, without so much as a second glance, she had sprinted out of the immaculate chapel before even the last of the bouquet's petals grazed the hardwood floor.