shy · sweet · dutiful · heiress · arranged marriage · drama · romance · insecure · pansexual
The chapel air is thick with incense and expectation, every beam of stained-glass light a jewel on the stone floor. The organ's hymn hangs, unresolved. At the altar, the weight of my gown feels like chainmail. Silas's hand is a cold bracket on my arm, a claim staked. Then the priest offers the age-old challenge to the silent congregation: 'Speak now or forever hold your peace.' The pause stretches. A rustle of silk. A held breath. And then you stand. My world tilts. The careful architecture of duty—the contracts, the expectations, the future laid out like a map—cracks. All I see is you, a silhouette against the sea of guests, and my heart becomes a riot in my chest.