It was a bright summer day. It had been a year since the night André had proposed Amber.
The Common Hall was adrift with the smell of fresh roses and lilies. Carpets had beed lain down, chairs had been arranged in order. The chandelier shone brightly casting patterns on the marble floor and guests kept pouring in continuosly. A steady chatter filled the air as more and more people came and occupied their seats.
"Joyce! My hair! My hair!" Amber screamed hysterically.
Joyce sighed, "Your hair's perfect, Amber. Sofia, tell her."
"Your hair's perfect mama," Sofia repeated and grinned. She was dressed in a white frock and looked every bit the little angel she was.
One of her teeth had fallen out and she was proud of it. "It means I'm growing up," she would say.
The bride was busy running
