ELARA
SEVEN DAYS TO THE WEDDING
“I can’t believe you’re getting married on Christmas,” Romilly said as she leaned back on the white sofa, her gaze fixed on me. Her eyes followed every movement as I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the wedding dress that seemed to weigh heavier with every passing second.
Smiling faintly at her reflection in the mirror, I traced my fingers over the embroidery on the gown. It was delicate, beautiful—but it didn’t feel real. If only this were a wedding born out of love and not duty. If only the joy on my face wasn’t so carefully rehearsed. “In one week, to be exact,” I replied softly, referring to Romilly’s statement about the wedding date.
Romilly tilted her head, her expression curious yet concerned. “Sometimes, it’s like you don’t even want to go
