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Not when it came to her.

When she finally stops in front of me, I take a moment simply to look at her.

Up close, she is even more devastating.

Every detail I noticed from a distance becomes sharper—the delicate curve of her features, the slight tremble in her breathing, the way her eyes keep searching mine as though she still hasn’t quite recovered from seeing me dressed like this.

Every part of her belongs to me.

And there isn’t a single thing about her I don’t love.

Not one.

I love this woman with everything inside me.

“The most beautiful goddess,” I whisper against her lips. “I’m completely enchanted by you, Selene.”

Her lashes flutter, and the shy smile that slowly curves across her lips makes warmth spread through my chest. She seems to melt into me, the tension leaving her shoulders, my words giving her permission to breathe again.

“Is it weird that I got nervous when I saw you?” she asks softly, lifting her eyes back to mine. “You look incredibly handsome, Zayn.”

A faint smile touches my mouth.

She raises one hand and gently caresses my cheek, her fingertips lingering against my skin as her gaze moves over my face with an almost disbelieving tenderness.

“My legs almost gave out when I saw you standing here… and as I was walking to you, I felt…”

She trails off, her gaze darting around us for a second before returning to mine. Raw emotion shines in her eyes, her expression caught between disbelief and happiness, making it obvious she’s trying to process the sight of me standing here dressed for a wedding.

My heart is pounding so hard it’s difficult to hear anything else, and the look in her eyes holds me still.

“God… Everything is so beautiful,” she says excitedly, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I felt like a real bride.”

“You are one,” I answer, the corner of my mouth lifting.

She laughs softly and shakes her head, turning once in front of me.

The image tears through the last shred of my control.

No.

She’ll never understand the effect she has on me.

“I know I’m dressed like a bride,” she says with a smile. “But I got emotional like it was actually real.”

“It is real,” I tell her again.

Her eyes widen.

For a heartbeat, she simply stares at me, her lips parting as the meaning of my words slowly reaches her. Then her head turns sharply, her gaze searching mine to make sure she heard me correctly.

But she doesn’t fully understand until I slowly lower myself—carefully, because my injured knee protests with a sharp pulse of pain—onto one knee and hold out a ring to her.

Her entire expression changes.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, both hands flying to her mouth while tears spill instantly down her cheeks. “Zayn,” she whispers.

Her eyes drop to the ring, then lift back to me, wide with shock.