His gaze flicks over my dress, my veil, my face.
He swallows.
“You look beautiful,” he says, voice rough.
My eyes sting.
I nod fast.
“Don’t,” he says immediately.
I laugh, wet and shaky.
“I’m trying,” I whisper.
“Just a couple more minutes,” he says, and his mouth twitches.
He holds his arm out.
I hook mine through it.
His hand covers mine where it rests on his forearm, warm and steady.
We start walking.
The church doors open wider, and the room shifts toward me.
I can’t see everyone at once. Just shapes. Faces. Flowers.
Then I see the aisle.
And at the end of it—
Nico.
He’s in a dark suit that looks like it was tailored directly onto his body.
His hair is neat. His posture is straight. His face is calm.
But his eyes—
His eyes are on me like nothing else exists.
Like the room could empty, and it wouldn’t matter.
Like I’m the only thing he came here for.
My breath catches.
My dad’s hand tightens on mine.
“Ready?” he murmurs.
No.
Yes.
I nod.
