The late afternoon sun bathed the New York City skyline in a golden glow, casting long shadows on the sidewalks and warming the steps of the small chapel tucked between two towering buildings. Ivy Whites stood at the top of those steps, her white satin gown flowing around her like a cloud, shimmering softly under the sun. Her veil fluttered slightly in the breeze, framing her radiant smile. Her cheeks were pink with joy, her eyes glistening as she looked up at the man beside her.
Ethan Whites, dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit, stood tall and proud, his hand tightly clasped around Ivy's. His eyes had barely left her since the vows were exchanged. There was a look of wonder on his face, like he still couldn't believe the beautiful woman beside him had just become his wife.
"Ivy Whites," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "you're really my wife. I still feel like I'm dreaming."
Ivy's smile deepened, and she leaned into his touch. "If this is a dream, I never want to wake up."
As the newlyweds turned toward their guests, applause broke out. Friends and family gathered at the bottom of the steps, clapping, cheering, and tossing handfuls of soft flower petals into the air. The petals danced like confetti in the light breeze, swirling around the couple in celebration. Laughter bubbled from Ivy's lips as she held Ethan's arm. Everything felt magical.
Moments later, a yellow taxi pulled up by the curb. With a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation, they climbed inside, ready to begin the next chapter of their lives.
The cab driver, an older man with silver hair and a friendly smile, peered at them through the rearview mirror. "Just married?" he asked with a grin.
"Yes," Ivy said shyly, her cheeks glowing.
"Well, congratulations! You both look like you walked straight out of a movie."
Ethan chuckled and slipped his arm around Ivy's shoulders. "Thank you. She's the star of my movie."
Ivy leaned into him, her voice a whisper. "And you're my favorite story."
The city passed by in a blur—bustling streets, honking cars, flashing lights, and towering buildings—but inside the taxi, it was as though the world had paused. They held hands, speaking in soft voices about the life ahead.
"We'll get a little plant for the kitchen window," Ivy said dreamily.
"And hang fairy lights around the bed," Ethan added.
"We'll cook pancakes on Sundays."
"And dance barefoot on the floor after dinner."
When the cab pulled up in front of a modest brownstone apartment in Brooklyn, Ethan stepped out first, rushing to Ivy's side like a gentleman. He opened the door with a flourish and bowed dramatically. "Your castle awaits, Mrs. Whites."
Ivy laughed. "Oh? Then I believe the tradition calls for this."
Before he could ask what, she raised her arms and said, "Carry me over the threshold!"
Ethan grinned, scooping her up with ease. She squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her up the steps. Inside, the apartment greeted them with quiet charm. It was small—just a cozy living room, a compact kitchen, and a single bedroom—but it felt like home.
Light streamed through the windows, casting warm patterns on the wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of fresh paint and lavender from the tiny bouquet Ivy had brought with her.
"This is it," Ethan said, setting her down gently. "Our love nest."
Ivy spun around slowly, taking it all in. "I love it. I really do."
They dropped their bags and collapsed onto the couch. Ethan cupped her face with both hands. "I promise, Ivy, to love you every day—not just today, not just when life is easy, but when it's hard too. I'll never leave your side."
Her eyes welled up with tears. "And I promise to believe in you. To support you, to laugh with you, and hold you when you cry. I promise to make this house a home."
They kissed again, deeply and tenderly, the kind of kiss that spoke more than words ever could.
Later that evening, they cooked their first meal together. The kitchen was filled with laughter as they bumbled through the recipe. Ethan stirred the sauce too fast and it splattered onto his shirt. Ivy tried to rescue the noodles and dropped the spoon with a loud clatter.
"Chef Ivy, I think we're losing control," Ethan joked.
"Oh hush and stir slower!" she laughed.
Dinner was simple—just noodles with tomato sauce—but as they sat cross-legged on the floor with their plates, it tasted like the finest meal in the world.
"I never imagined married life could start like this," Ivy said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I never imagined I'd be this happy," Ethan replied, kissing the top of her head.
That night, wrapped in each other's arms beneath a shared blanket, the world outside faded away. They didn't have riches or luxury, but they had each other—and for now, that was everything.
"Goodnight, my husband," Ivy whispered.
"Goodnight, my beautiful wife," Ethan murmured.
And somewhere in that little apartment, love bloomed—quiet, strong, and ready to weather the storms ahead.