No one meets my eyes.
Not one person.
In fact, I think one of the guards shuddered as we walked past. Whether it was out of fear or reverence, I honestly can’t say.
But it only adds to the surreal quality of everything.
This is happening.
I’m getting married.
To a man I’ve known for barely more than a blink.
To a man who burns when he touches me.
Who scares me just as much as he makes me feel seen.
The sea glitters behind us, blue as a dream. The moon is rising, turning the sky to silver.
It should be the most romantic moment of my life—but my hands are cold, and my stomach is twisted up in a knot I can’t undo.
Captain Nikolaus Kostas stands at attention beneath a small white arch flanked by two large vases filled with white lilies.
He’s weathered and dignified, his beard trimmed, his uniform sharp.
He nods respectfully to Atlas, then glances at me with just enough sympathy to make my throat tighten.
There are no flowers in my hair.
No family.
No first dance playlist.
No cake tasting, no champagne toasts, no “Something borrowed, something blue.”
Just this.
Just him.
Atlas takes my hand and holds it between both of his. His eyes never leave mine.
When the Captain begins the vows, his deep Greek-accented voice formal and calm, Atlas doesn’t hesitate.
Not once.
“I do.”
He says it like a vow and a warning.
And when it’s my turn, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I don’t even realize I’m speaking until the words have already fallen out of me like a whisper.
“I do.”
The Captain confirms we are now husband and wife, but I barely hear him.
I’m too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
