Luna POV
We married in spring, when the cherry blossoms painted Central Park in shades of pink and white, when the air smelled of possibility and new beginnings.
It was small. Intentionally so. Maya stood beside me as maid of honor, weeping openly into a tissue. Cici read from Mary Oliver, her voice cracking on the line about letting the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Wendy scattered petals down the aisle, her purple dress bright against the green grass, her smile wide enough to split her face.
Ethan waited at the end of the aisle, wearing a suit the color of midnight, his eyes never leaving mine. He looked nervous. I loved him for that—the billionaire tech founder, the man who negotiated mergers with ice in his veins, nervous because he loved me and was terrified I might
