Built on Forever
658 Words
Chapter IX: Built on Forever
The day was warm, kissed by spring sunlight that filtered through the high chapel windows like soft promises from above. Blossoms—white magnolias, her favorite—lined the aisle. They were simple, elegant, just like her gown: a soft A-line of ivory satin, unembellished, timeless. She didn’t need sparkle to shine. Beatrice was radiant all on her own.
She walked steadily, every step echoing the journey she’d taken to get here—not just across the chapel floor, but across years of heartbreak, self-discovery, and healing. Her eyes never left the man waiting at the end of the aisle.
Blake.
He stood there in a crisp dark suit, broad shoulders square, his hands clasped, but it was his eyes that held her in place—warm, unwavering, a little glassy. As she drew closer, he smiled, just for her, and it nearly undid her.
Her father whispered at her side, “He’s a good man.”
“I know,” she whispered back, her voice steady. “I chose him.”
And it was true.
Blake never rushed her, never pressured. He held space for her to become the woman she was always meant to be. He didn’t fix her—he stood beside her while she rebuilt herself.
As she reached the altar, Blake reached out and took her hand, his thumb brushing over hers like a silent vow.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice thick.
“And you’re stuck with me now,” she teased gently.
“Best decision I ever made.”
The ceremony unfolded with grace and quiet joy. Their vows were personal—full of laughter and depth. She spoke of resilience, of how love should never cost a woman her voice. He spoke of how she taught him gentleness, of how he admired her courage and wanted to be a part of her future—not shape it, but build it with her.
“You are my equal,” Blake said softly, his voice echoing in the hush. “You’re not mine to claim—you’re mine to stand beside. And I’ll do that for the rest of my life.”
She blinked back tears. This love was not born of desperation or fire. It was something deeper, steadier. Safe.
Outside, across the street, someone stood watching.
Noel.
Dressed in a crumpled shirt, hidden in the shadow of a tree, he stared through the stained-glass window, just close enough to glimpse her silhouette. His chest tightened with something sharp and hollow.
She looks different now.
More confident. More luminous. Her laughter, the way she smiled at Blake—it wasn’t the same smile she used to give him. It was freer. As if she no longer carried the weight he once placed on her shoulders.
Beside him, Susane tapped a text on her phone, not even noticing where he looked. Her nails were painted, her voice high and whiny when she spoke. “We’re late for dinner with my parents. Again. Are you listening?”
Noel didn’t answer. He couldn’t look away.
He remembered when Beatrice used to wait for him. When she’d give up promotions, or late hours, or pride—just to please him. She used to look at him with hope. Now, she looked at Blake with certainty.
He hadn’t just lost her love. He had lost the woman he could have grown with—if he’d been man enough to value her.
Inside the chapel, Beatrice and Blake turned to face their friends and family as husband and wife. Cheers erupted. Applause. A kiss followed—sweet, full of promise. The start of everything.
Beatrice caught a glimpse, just a flicker of a figure across the street. A flash of recognition.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t falter.
She simply turned back to Blake and held his hand tighter.
Because she was exactly where she was meant to be.
- Writer
