Wedding of the Century
1147 Words
By noon, the cathedral steps were lined with cameras.
By two, helicopters hovered overhead.
By four, the city had unofficially renamed the day.
The Wedding of the Century.
White roses climbed marble pillars in impossible abundance. Crystal chandeliers had been installed beneath the vaulted ceilings, refracting soft golden light across polished floors. A thousand guests filled the pews; politicians, investors, celebrities, rival executives pretending to smile.
Outside, the Laurent and Devereaux flags fluttered side by side.
Inside, it felt like a merger disguised as a fairytale.
Aurelia stood in the bridal suite, staring at herself in the mirror.
The gown was exquisite. Silk and hand-stitched lace cascading like liquid ivory down her body. A cathedral-length veil draped behind her, pinned with heirloom diamonds from her mother’s collection.
She looked like a queen.
She felt like collateral.
“Stop thinking,” Selene murmured softly from behind her.
Aurelia saw her sister’s reflection in the mirror.
Selene looked radiant in her own gown…softer, lighter, delicate beadwork catching the light like scattered stars. There was nervousness in her smile, but also something steadier.
Resolve.
“You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to,” Selene added.
“I know.”
“But it helps.”
Aurelia almost laughed.
“You look beautiful,” she said instead.
“So do you.”
There was a pause.
“Are you afraid?” Selene asked quietly.
Aurelia considered it.
“No,” she said.
It wasn’t entirely true.
But fear wasn’t what pressed against her ribs.
It was uncertainty.
A knock interrupted them.
“Five minutes,” a coordinator announced.
Five minutes until vows that were drafted by lawyers.
Five minutes until cameras captured history.
Five minutes until Aurelia Laurent became Mrs. Devereaux.
Damien stood at the altar like a man awaiting a contract signing.
His tuxedo was perfectly tailored. His posture straight, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His expression unreadable.
Guests whispered about him.
Power radiated from him,not loud, not theatrical. Controlled. Contained. Dangerous in its stillness.
Lucien stood beside him, adjusting his cufflinks.
“You look thrilled,” Lucien murmured under his breath.
Damien didn’t glance at him. “This isn’t entertainment.”
“It’s a wedding.”
“It’s an alliance.”
Lucien’s lips curved faintly. “You really know how to ruin romance.”
Damien’s jaw tightened slightly.
The music began.
Every head turned.
Aurelia walked down the aisle alone.
She had insisted.
No trembling father handing her over. No symbolic transfer.
If this was her choice however reluctant,she would walk into it on her own terms.
The cathedral doors opened.
Light poured in behind her, catching the veil, illuminating her like something almost untouchable.
A collective breath swept through the crowd.
Damien watched her approach.
He noticed details without meaning to.
The steadiness of her steps.
The lack of hesitation.
The way she did not search for him with her eyes.
Interesting.
When she reached the altar, she stood opposite him.
For a moment, the world narrowed.
Up close, he saw the faint tension in her jaw.
She saw the calm calculation in his gaze.
They did not smile.
They did not whisper.
They did not touch.
The officiant began speaking about unity, destiny, partnership.
Words that floated beautifully but meant very little here.
When it was time for vows, Damien’s voice was steady.
“I, Damien Devereaux, take you, Aurelia Laurent, as my wife.”
Clear. Controlled. Efficient.
Aurelia’s turn.
Her voice did not waver.
“I, Aurelia Laurent, take you, Damien Devereaux, as my husband.”
Their eyes met only briefly.
Long enough to acknowledge one thing
This was real.
The rings were exchanged.
Applause erupted.
Cameras flashed like lightning.
Damien leaned in for the required kiss.
It was brief.
Polite.
Lacking heat.
But as he pulled away, his hand lingered just a fraction longer at her waist than necessary.
Aurelia noticed.
He noticed that she noticed.
Then it was over.
Beside them, Lucien’s ceremony felt almost… lighter.
When Selene approached the altar, Lucien’s expression shifted completely.
Warm. Appreciative. Almost boyish.
She tried not to smile.
Unlike his brother, Lucien looked at her directly curious, openly studying her face as though memorizing it.
When they exchanged vows, his tone held something almost genuine beneath the charm.
And when he kissed her, it wasn’t cold.
It wasn’t passionate either.
But it lingered.
Just enough to send a ripple of whispers through the front pews.
The reception took place at the Devereaux estate overlooking the sea.
Fireworks waited offshore.
Champagne flowed without pause.
A twelve-piece orchestra played beneath a canopy of suspended glass lanterns.
Everything shimmered.
Aurelia stood beside Damien greeting dignitaries, her smile precise, measured. Their hands brushed occasionally, nothing more.
“You perform well,” Damien said quietly as another guest moved on.
“So do you.”
“You seem unaffected.”
“You seem indifferent.”
A flicker of something passed through his eyes.
“Indifference is efficient.”
“Is that what this is?” she asked.
He held her gaze a moment longer than before.
“Tonight is about stability.”
She nodded once.
Across the terrace, Lucien and Selene danced together.
He spun her once beneath the lights during their first dance, ignoring the choreography planned by professionals.
“You’re going to cause a scandal,” Selene whispered.
“That’s my specialty.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you married me.”
She hesitated.
“You married me too.”
For a second, something unspoken hovered between them.
As the night deepened, the couples posed for photographs.
Four figures bound by contracts and cameras.
At one point, the photographer instructed them to stand closer.
Damien’s hand settled at Aurelia’s lower back.
Lucien’s fingers brushed Selene’s waist.
Aurelia became acutely aware of warmth through silk.
Of the scent of Damien’s cologne;clean, understated, expensive.
She glanced at him.
He was already looking at her.
Not warmly.
Not coldly.
Assessing.
Like he was trying to understand something unexpected.
She looked away first.
Above them, fireworks exploded across the dark sky.
Gold. Silver. Crimson.
Guests cheered.
Champagne glasses clinked.
Music swelled.
It was perfect.
Extravagant.
And beneath the glittering surface
Nothing about it felt settled.
As the final firework burst over the sea, Selene felt a strange chill despite the summer air.
Lucien squeezed her hand lightly.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A little.”
“It’s just one night.” he said easily.
Across the terrace, Damien leaned closer to Aurelia.
“Our cars are ready,” he said.
Separate suites had been prepared.
Separate rooms.
Everything meticulously arranged.
Everything controlled.
But as Aurelia stepped into the night air beside her new husband, she couldn’t shake the quiet feeling that something unseen was already shifting.
Lavish weddings made beautiful headlines.
They did not guarantee smooth beginnings.
And sometimes…
The most extravagant nights were the ones that unraveled everything.
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