Walking into the main entrance of the estate, I already knew—the doors to the small Chapel of the Moon had been opened in preparation for today’s event.
The floor had been carefully dressed in a long white rug that stretched toward the chapel’s arched entrance, flanked by scattered white rose petals that attempted to soften the weight of what this day meant.
But no matter how delicate the decoration, nothing could hide the truth.
This didn’t feel like a wedding.
This felt like a funeral.
A funeral… for the life I had once imagined. For the girl who used to dream.
Wearing this gown—stitched not with joy, but with legacy and battle—I felt like I was wrapped in armor instead of silk. Every piece of jewelry I wore gleamed like sharpened blades. Every step I took was heavy, not with beaut
