33
Chloe
We take our vows in the glass-walled terrace overlooking the ravine, where the mountain vistas provide an i********:-worthy backdrop and the late-afternoon sun casts everything in a warm, golden light.
To an outsider, it would look like the most picture-perfect tiny wedding, right down to the music piping in through the ceiling speakers and the adorable tuxedo-clad child beaming in excitement to our right.
“Do you, Chloe Emmons, take Nikolai Molotov… your lawfully wedded husband… and to hold…” The priest’s words fade in and out, like a faulty radio broadcast, the white noise effect returning to create a constant hum in my ears. I’m vaguely aware of Alina standing next to me, unofficially playing the maid of honor, and of Pavel’s bear-like frame next to Nikolai. Is he his best
