The music began soft and deliberate, each note stretching time.
Damon stood still at the altar, but inside, his heart beat hard enough that he could feel it in his neck.
His palms were dry, but only because he'd already wiped them on the inside of his jacket three times.
In the back, behind the last row of seated guests and hidden just out of view, Svetlana waited.
Her breath was shallow. She held her bouquet with both hands, and they trembled just slightly.
The layers of her dress felt heavier now than they had all morning. She wasn't cold, but her shoulders were stiff. The moment had caught up.
Victor stood beside her, dressed in a sharp, dark suit. His tie was already loosened a notch, but he hadn't lost an ounce of composure. He turned and reached out, gently placing his hands over hers. She looked up.
"You look amazing," he said quietly. "You've grown up. I'm proud of you."
Her eyes wavered, and her voice dropped. "I'm scared."
