The hall shimmered with gold light.
Crystal chandeliers caught every breath of air, scattering it in fragments across white marble and silk. Beyond the glass walls, the sea moved like liquid silver, the sound of waves folding softly beneath the string quartet.
Ezra stood at the end of the aisle, half-stunned, half-adrift. The suit fit him too well for something decided only hours ago; the black fabric framed him like armor. Around him, murmurs hushed.
Then she appeared.
Mellody.
She walked slowly beneath the canopy of white flowers, veil whispering against her shoulders. Every step seemed to bend the light toward her. Even the air waited.
When she reached him, she met his eyes, steady, calm, unshaken.
The officiant's voice drifted like background music—words about vows, faith, and futures. Ezra barely heard them. The world had narrowed to the space between her gaze and his heartbeat.
"Do you, Ezra Graves, take Mellody Ardent…?"
He hesitated just long enough for someone in the crowd to laugh softly.
"I guess I do," he said, and a ripple of amusement rolled through the guests.
"And do you, Mellody Ardent, take Ezra Graves…?"
Her voice was quiet, clear as glass. "I do."
Applause fluttered through the hall. The music rose. The officiant smiled. "Then by the power vested in me—"
The rest drowned beneath the swell of sound.
Mellody turned to him. "Now, we seal it."
He blinked once, awkwardly. "You mean—right here? In front of everyone?"
Her lips curved. "That's the point, isn't it?"
And before he could say anything else, she leaned in.
Her lips were soft, tentative, tasting faintly of rain and warmth. For her, it was the first—her first kiss, pure and trembling, yet unafraid. The applause blurred into a single wave of noise, but all Ezra could hear was the faint catch of her breath against his.
When they finally parted, the hall erupted in cheers. Someone clapped him on the back; Sophie squealed; Vale whistled. He could only stare at Mellody, who was still smiling—shy this time, almost human beneath the poise.
She leaned close enough that only he could hear.
"I'll tell you a secret," she whispered.
His brow furrowed slightly. "What secret?"
"Not now." Her eyes glimmered with something between mischief and depth. "Maybe later. Someday, when the time is right."
She winked, the smallest motion, almost lost in the noise.
And for one fragile moment, under the lights, everything felt real.
Applause. Music. Warmth.
Then, somewhere behind the celebration, thunder rolled across the horizon—distant, restrained, like a reminder that storms never disappear; they only wait.
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