𝐎𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐧 // 𝐉. 𝐇

Chapter 3: The wedding invite

Ethereal (Adj.): Extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world

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The soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room as Ophelia's eyes fluttered open to the sound of her alarm. She groggily reached over, silencing the persistent beeping with a dismissive tap. The routine of another day had begun.

Rolling out of bed, Ophelia's warm feet met the icy floor. The chill sent a shiver through her, but it was a sensation she had grown accustomed to. The clock read 6:30 AM, the familiar time that marked the start of her daily ritual. With a lazy stretch, she propelled herself into motion.

In the crisp morning air, Ophelia transformed from a ballerina in repose to an active force of grace. She navigated through the steps of her morning routine, from brushing her teeth to changing into her workout clothes—a sleek ensemble of black leggings, a vest paired with a wrap skirt, and her signature blush pink ballet slippers.

Emile awaited her at the ballet barre in their practice room, a space that bore witness to countless hours of dedication. The room echoed with the quiet cadence of their synchronized movements as they engaged in a swift, efficient workout, their bodies moving in harmony.

Within 20 minutes, the dance of exercise concluded, leaving them invigorated and ready to face the day.

After a refreshing shower, the aroma of breakfast beckoned Ophelia to the kitchen. She prepared a nourishing bowl of porridge, a symphony of flavors and textures—raspberries, sliced oranges, banana, oats, almond butter, goji berries, chia seeds, and the essential ingredient, milk. As she savored each spoonful, Ophelia turned her attention to Emile.

"Did you feed as yet?" she inquired, her eyes locking with his over the rim of her bowl."Oui, while you were still asleep," he replied, a sense of pride in his tone.

While Ophelia enjoyed her breakfast, Emile sorted through the mail—bills, receipts, and the daily newspaper. A frown creased his forehead as his gaze settled on the last letter. Ophelia's curiosity piqued, and she tore open the seal with a swift motion. The letter read:

To Ophelia Swan & Emile Dubois

ISABELLA MARIE SWAN AND EDWARD ANTHONY MASON CULLEN TOGETHER WITH THEIR FAMILIES REQUEST THE HONOUR OF YOUR PRESENCE AT THE CELEBRATION OF THEIR MARRIAGE SATURDAY, THE THIRTEENTH OF AUGUST TWO THOUSAND AND ELEVEN FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING 420 WOODCROFT AVE FORKS, WA

The excitement bubbling within Ophelia couldn't be contained. She jumped up, her eyes shining. "Emile, my sister is getting married!"

Emile glanced at the invitation, a rare smile gracing his lips. "Well, it seems we've got a wedding to attend."

Ophelia's mind raced with memories of her brief encounter with the Cullen family during their short visit to Forks. She remembered Isabella, her sister, and Edward, a charming figure with eyes that held a secret. The anticipation of the upcoming celebration added a new layer of joy to their routine, infusing the day with a sense of festivity and the promise of shared happiness.