Twenty minutes turned into a worthwhile hour.
Because we were getting married at the same place my parents got married.
Umaima yapped her whole way up the stairs, but I took my time. Smooth stones met with the heel of my shoe, and I had a strong urge to take them and feel the steps against my feet.
It felt like my parents were here. They were watching me, they were in the cracked crevices of the church, rooting me on from afar.
The sky glistened with a hue of orange and pinks, and it mattered more than I could say when a small drop of rain fell from the sky and onto my forehead. If I had time, I would’ve stayed out here and skipped the ceremony all together.
There was no spiritual experience more religious than thinking of our loved ones.
“Addie,” Umaima stared down from the top of the stairs. One hand fisted into her dress and the other channelled me forward. “We should head inside before Christian thinks you ran away.”
Right.
Guests.
Wedding.
Plan.
Christian.
I almost forgot.
Quickening my pace, the U-shaped sheer French cape glittered under the setting sun.
The same woman from the salon stood in front of the door and instructed Umaima to head inside first. She was my maid of honor without question. After she strutted inside with her pastel green dress whooshing at her feet with utmost confidence, it was my turn to stand in front of the entrance.
My anxiety rushed to the surface of my mind, flooding out into different directions with different thoughts. I had no bouquet to hold onto, just myself.
I started counting to eight.
With clasped hands, I straightened my posture, and the moment the number eight traced the hem of my lips, the wooden arched doors opened in a sync with my beating heart.
Creaking, devastating, and…perfect.
TWENTY-NINE
CHRISTIAN
She looked breathtaking.
The sunset framed her in a cascade of oranges and pinks, a living masterpiece that I longed to hang in the gallery of my heart. I couldn't let her in, but from a distance, I could admire her beauty. There she stood, her white dress flowing around her, hands trembling yet clasped together, embodying a newfound strength against her anxiety.
Adelaide Mikael was a monsoon to my desolate heart.
It took her a moment to find my eyes but when she did…
All had stopped.
Like a plant at the first hit of sunlight, I was brought to life.
I’d forgotten about the morning, about our fucking argument and only saw her.
She occupied every bit of my senses, down to the spaces between my toes.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any fucking better, shesmiled.
