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If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be laughing at my own wedding reception, I would have assumed they had mistaken me for someone else.
The atmosphere was nothing like my first wedding.
There were no stiff smiles hiding sharp intentions. No nobles whispering about how I was the safe option and replacement bride while pretending to celebrate. No suffocating expectations pressing against my shoulders.
It felt… warm.
The reception had been arranged beneath strings of glowing lanterns that stretched across the garden. Long wooden tables were filled with food, wine, fresh fruits and pastries, while musicians played soft melodies that blended perfectly with the sound of the evening breeze.
People weren’t watching me to judge me. They were simply happy for me. And even
