The grand hall shimmered with elegance, the air thick mixed with the scent of roses and lavender. Delicate golden drapes hung from the ceiling, catching the soft afternoon light. A string quartet played a sweet, melodic tune calm, graceful, perfect. Guests, adorned in their finest, sipped champagne and exchanged hushed words of admiration for the seemingly flawless event.
The bride, a vision in white lace, sat before a towering mirror in the bridal suite. Her dress clung to her frame like a second skin, intricate beading glimmering with every small movement. Her veil cascaded over her shoulders, pooling softly around her feet. Makeup artists and hairstylists buzzed around her, adding finishing touches, but she barely noticed them. Her lips, painted a soft crimson, curled into a smile not of joy, nor of nervous anticipation. It was something else entirely.
