My prophecy Luna

Chapter forty-three

LILY’S POINT OF VIEW

Now it’s the day for bridesmaid dresses, I was so looking forward to this since we have found out the date of the wedding. Jess just seems to get more frazzled making sure everything is booked and ready for the 28th. The wedding is going to be held at the packhouse along with the reception so that was one that was going to be for certain. Layla is about halfway done with Jess’s wedding dress already, so she’s taking today off.

We were in the changing rooms fixing the backs of the dresses up, all were a light purple, loosely fitted and flowy, reaching our knees. We all looked pretty damn good. When we stepped out Jess was very pleased and looked to Rhianna who also seemed very happy with the dresses. Only eight more days to go for the wedding. Cassandra twirled in her dress, grinning.

“Now, on to shoes!” Cassandra declares, Rhianna still fidgeting with her hem and we all laugh.

We headed home that afternoon, arms full of lavender dresses and laughter ringing in the air. There was a buzz of excitement and exhaustion as we tumbled into Jess’s kitchen, immediately met by the scent of fresh coffee and the comforting chaos of wedding preparations. Jess was hunched over her ever-growing checklist, a pen tucked behind her ear and worry lines etched across her brow, but even she couldn’t help but smile as we modeled the dresses before raiding her fridge for snacks.

Layla breezed in just as the kettle boiled, a rare day off written in the relaxed slope of her shoulders. She inspected the seams and hems with an expert’s eye, offering approving nods and a few last-minute tips. The house felt like a hive—someone was stringing fairy lights in the hallway, half-written place cards littered the dining table, and the faint hum of music drifted in from a phone speaker propped up on the counter.

As evening fell, Jess finally set her list aside and let herself be swept up in the moment. We sprawled out across the living room in a tangle of chiffon and sashes, sharing old stories, teasing Jess about her sudden obsession with napkin-folding tutorials, and painting our nails in every shade of pastel imaginable. There was a sense of time slipping faster now—just a few more days, a few more details, and then everything would change.

By the time the sky bruised to indigo outside, the nerves had quieted a little, replaced by anticipation and the unspoken understanding that we were all in this together, come what may.