LOVE IN THE HEART
1500 Words
“Get ready for the photoshoot!” one photographer chirped enthusiastically.
They arranged Emmy in the floral corner—her mother hugging her from behind, her father holding her hand proudly, Priscy flashing a smile so wide it looked like her face might crack. Soon the rest of Emmy’s family gathered around, creating a perfect picture of warmth.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
The room sparkled with laughter, silly jokes, and the kind of soft, trembling emotions that only weddings could summon. It felt like time paused—like the universe wanted to frame this moment itself.
Just as the final shots were taken, Emmy’s phone rang.
The event planner’s bright voice filled the room:
“Good news! Mr. Daniel Mensah and his best man, Mr. Prince Adams, just arrived at the church. You can set off now.”
A loud, high-pitched scream blasted through the room—coming from both Emmy and Priscy at the exact same time.
“Finally!” Priscy shrieked.
Emmy covered her mouth. “Oh my God. This is really happening. I’m getting married today!”
Her mother burst out laughing.
“You young ladies should calm down before you break your heels. I’m going downstairs. Continue your celebration.”
But the girls only screamed again, hugging tightly, their joy exploding like confetti.
Emmy’s wedding day… was officially alive.
---
EMMY’S POV
The car rolled to a gentle stop at the church entrance, and suddenly I forgot how to breathe. My heartbeat thundered inside my chest. Priscy turned to me with her signature reassuring smile—half excitement, half don’t you dare cry and ruin your makeup.
The driver stepped out and opened the door slowly, like he was revealing a sacred scene. Priscy rushed to my side.
“Easy, baby girl… one step at a time,” she whispered.
I held her hand and stepped out. The air outside was cool and fresh, brushing against my skin. Priscy immediately bent down, spreading my gown like she was arranging clouds at God’s request.
“Flawless,” she murmured, dusting imaginary dirt from my dress.
Then I saw him—my father—walking toward me.
He didn’t speak. He simply reached out and wiped away the single tear that had escaped down my cheek.
Something inside me cracked, softly.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded, voice thick. “Let’s go, my daughter.”
I slipped my hand into his, and together we turned toward the church. My steps slowed. Everything blurred—guests, flowers, cars, noise—until it all felt like a scene dipped in honey.
Inside my head, scripture floated gently:
“I will make him a helper suitable for him.”
A partner.
A wife.
Daniel’s wife.
I looked up at the bright sky above the church doors.
Thank You, Lord… for love. For today.
The usher peeked inside, then announced loudly:
“Bride arriving!”
The entire church rose.
My heart fluttered like wings.
The doors opened.
A soft breeze kissed my face. Warm awe and whispered excitement filled the church as every eye turned toward me.
My father squeezed my arm.
And then… I saw him.
Daniel.
Standing at the altar, looking like the most breathtaking man I had ever seen. His suit fit him perfectly, his eyes shining with tears he was trying—and failing—to hide.
Prince Adams, ever the menace, leaned in and slipped Daniel a handkerchief like a secret agent exchanging intel. Daniel wiped his face… then paused.
Prince had tilted the handkerchief so Daniel could see the embroidered words:
“Fill me up with your tears, baby.”
I knew because Prince bragged about this joke all week.
Daniel’s jaw locked as he tried not to laugh. His shoulders shook. Prince bit his own lip to keep a straight face and subtly pinched his thigh to stay serious.
I almost broke.
I almost cried.
I almost laughed.
Instead… I smiled.
Seeing them like that—two grown men failing to behave on my wedding day—made something inside me warm and steady.
This was home.
This was love.
This was my life now.
And with each step toward Daniel, I felt my soul whisper:
I am ready.
I am his.
---
ELSA’S POV
My mother was flying around the house like a bee whose hive had caught fire. Pots were banging, drawers slamming, her slippers smacking the tiles loud enough to wake ancestors. She screamed everybody’s name—including people who didn’t live in our house.
She looked like a woman auditioning for a drama series titled “Wedding Panic: The Untamed Version.” She wasn’t walking; she was zooming, spinning, shouting instructions nobody asked for, breathing stress into the furniture. Even the curtains looked frightened.
“We cannot be late! We cannot be late! I am holding the wedding cake of a famous couple!” she yelled like she was handling the crown jewels.
My father sighed calmly. “The wedding won’t run away.”
My father just stood there with the same exhausted, long-suffering expression of a man who had survived twenty-five years of my mother’s theatrics. His eyes held quiet wisdom… and deep, spiritual resignation.
From the kitchen, my mom roared,
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! I AM HOLDING THE CAKE OF A FAMOUS COUPLE!”
I choked on my laughter.
“Daddy, please. They’re just rich people. Mommy is exaggerating again.”
My mother shot me a stare that could drag my soul out of my body and hang it outside like laundry.
Before she could start a lecture, a knock came at the door.
“Oh! The carriers are here!” she shouted.
I opened the door to find three muscular men wearing shirts that said:
Cake Movers Ghana LTD.
“Mummy! Your people are here!”
One of the men chuckled. “She’s taking her time to look good before she follows you to supervise the cake like an FBI agent.”
I burst out laughing.
“No problem, madam,” he continued. “We’ll start loading the pastries. By the time we finish, she should be done. Mr. Daniel Mensah is making his vows right now.”
I blinked.
“Mind if I ask… are the couple really famous?”
He smiled. “Check the internet.”
Curiosity dragged me. I searched:
‘Celebrity wedding happening today.’
Nothing.
I rolled my eyes.
Then I typed: Daniel Mensah.
His profile popped up instantly.
Son of Pastor Mensah, founder of—
I didn’t finish reading.
I simply turned off my phone, laughing.
“Ohhhh! So Mommy is calling a pastor’s son a famous man because he goes on mission trips? Ah!”
Before I laughed too hard, my mother descended the stairs looking like she was the one getting married—hair laid, dress gorgeous, makeup fresh.
My father gasped dramatically.
“Woman, you are too beautiful! Who did you dress for?”
She waved her hand shyly. “Oh, stop it, you this man.”
And then—
KWRAAA!
My mother MISSED the last step and landed straight on her butt.
“AYYYYY!” she screamed.
“MOMMY!”
“HONEY!”
We shouted and rushed toward her.
She glared at us.
“YOU PEOPLE MADE ME FALL! I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING TO ME!”
I laughed so hard I wheezed.
“Mummy, how did we make you fall?”
My father pointed a stern finger.
“Elsa! Behave.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, wiping tears of laughter.
We bent to lift her, but she suddenly froze.
“WAIT! WAIT! I HEARD A BONE CRACK!”
Then she screamed dramatically,
“YAAEEE!”
Before we could process her performance, her phone rang on loudspeaker.
Wedding Planner.
My mother’s eyes widened like she had seen judgment day.
“Oh Jesus… what should I do? Don’t pick! Don’t pick!”
The phone—as stubborn as its owner—answered itself because her screen was cracked and disobedient.
“Hello? Are you on your way? The cake table is ready,” the planner said.
My mom inhaled sharply.
“Uhm… yes, yes, they are on their way. Very close. But unfortunately, I—I I will not be coming myself.”
I frowned. "Ehn"
“My daughter will be coming,” she declared confidently.
“She knows exactly what to do.”
My entire soul jumped out of my body.
“Mummy, NO. I’m not dressed! I don’t know anything about cake supervising!”
She tapped my hand like I was five.
“Too late. Go and get dressed. Follow the men. Make sure my cake reaches safely.”
My father gave me a tiny guilty look from behind her—a silent apology because he knew I had lost this battle.
I sighed
Just like that…
I was heading to the wedding of a man I didn’t know…
With a cake I didn’t bake…
On a day I didn’t plan for.
- Writer
