The Aspired Perfection

Fractures.

Caspian’s POV

I should’ve been focused on my vows. Instead, I was watching Ember.

She sat stiff in the second row now, hands clenched together in her lap, eyes fixed on the ground like if she looked up again, something worse might happen. Every now and then, she’d glance at me quickly, then look away like she’d been burned.

Aurora stood beside me, fingers laced through mine. Her grip was firm, steady. She didn’t tremble. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

That somehow unsettled me more.

The officiant spoke about unity. About balance. About two powerful families becoming one. His voice blended with the crash of the waves below the cliffs, steady and rhythmic, like a chant meant to anchor something that wanted to drift.

I repeated my vows without missing a word. Aurora did the same. She looked up at me with calm eyes, her smile soft but controlled.

When the ring slid onto her finger, the crowd exhaled, applause breaking out like nothing strange had happened at all.

But my instincts wouldn’t be quiet.

The moment the ceremony ended, the air shifted again. Not visibly. Just enough that my wolf stirred under my skin.

Something had cracked.

The reception was held inside the main hall—a massive stone structure that had stood for centuries. Chandeliers glowed overhead, tables covered in white and silver. Laughter filled the room, glasses clinked, music played softly.

From the outside, it was perfect.

I barely tasted the food.

Aurora moved through the crowd effortlessly, greeting elders, smiling at pack leaders, responding exactly the way she was expected to. She played her role flawlessly.

I watched her from across the room, trying to reconcile the woman I stood beside at the altar with the unease curling in my gut.

Ember hovered near the edges of the room, clearly avoiding Aurora. That alone was strange. They’d been inseparable since childhood—everyone knew that.

I excused myself from a conversation with my father and headed straight for Ember.

She noticed me too late.

“Ember,” I said quietly.

She flinched.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t look okay.”

She laughed weakly. “Yeah. Weddings do that to people.”

I didn’t buy it. Neither did my wolf.

“You mouthed something earlier,” I said. “At the ceremony.”

Her face was drained of color.

“I—no, I didn’t.”

“You did,” I said gently. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Her eyes flicked around the room. “You should talk to your wife.”

That word—wife—felt heavier than it should have.

“I’m talking to you.”

She swallowed. “Then I shouldn’t say anything. Not here.”

Before I could press her further, Aurora appeared beside us.

“There you are,” she said to Ember, her tone warm but searching. “You disappeared.”

“I needed air,” Ember replied quickly.

Aurora studied her friend for a second too long, then turned to me. “Caspian, the elders want you near the head table.”

“Of course,” I said.

As I stepped away, I felt Ember’s eyes on my back—heavy, anxious.

And I wondered what she’d seen that morning that had shaken her so badly.

Later that night, after the guests had thinned and the music softened, Aurora and I finally had a moment alone. Our room overlooked the forest.

Moonlight filtered through the trees, silver and pale. From here, the forest looked peaceful. Still.

But I knew better.

“You’re quiet,” Aurora said, removing her jewelry and placing it carefully on the dresser.

“So are you.”

She smiled faintly. “I’ve had a long day.”

“So have I.”

She turned to face me. “Is something wrong?”

I hesitated. “Your friend seems… upset.”

Her jaw tightened—just a little.

“Ember worries too much,” she said. “She always has.”

“That didn’t look like worry.”

Aurora met my gaze, her expression unreadable. “What did it look like to you?”

“Fear.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then she stepped closer, resting her hand lightly against my chest. “Today was overwhelming for everyone. Let’s not turn it into something it isn’t.”

Her touch was warm. Familiar. Comforting. And yet… something about her words felt practiced.

I nodded. “You’re right.”

She smiled again, softer this time. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

But tomorrow felt too far away.

Aurora’s POV

I’d been waiting for the moment he would start asking questions.

Caspian was observant. Too observant. It was one of the things that drew me to him—and one of the things that terrified me.

The wedding had gone according to plan. Almost perfectly.

Almost.

Ember was the variable I hadn’t accounted for.

I could still see her face when she rushed into the ceremony. The way she froze when she saw Caspian. The way her eyes widened, her mouth forming words she shouldn’t have said.

She saw him.

Or rather… she saw him.

I pressed my palms against the cool stone balcony later that night, breathing slowly, grounding myself the way I’d been taught.

The mirror world pressed close tonight. I could feel it—like a second heartbeat beneath my own.

The witches had warned me this would happen.

That once the bond was sealed, the pull would grow stronger.

That keeping both sides separate would become harder. Caspian didn’t know the full truth. He couldn’t. Not yet.

He didn’t know that the disappearances weren’t random. That some of us were born touched by both worlds.

That I wasn’t perfect because I tried to be—

But because I had to be.

I thought of the lilies that morning. I hadn’t put them there. I knew better.

Which meant something else had crossed over.

Something careless.

Something reckless.

Something that wanted to be seen.

Ember’s fear wasn’t just confusion. It was recognition. And that scared me more than anything.

I joined Caspian in bed later, careful not to wake him. He slept lightly, brow furrowed even in rest.

I watched him for a long time.

I did love him. In my own way. That part was real.

But love didn’t erase the consequences.

The mirror world didn’t care about weddings or alliances.

It only cared about balance.

And tonight, the balance was slipping.