Chapter 29: "A Promise in Bloom"
The sun shone like a quiet blessing over the coastal chapel, casting soft golden hues across the stone walls and blooming garden that framed the entrance. The air was warm with anticipation, laughter, and the gentle rustle of silk and lace.
Reese's wedding day had finally arrived.
We had all arrived early, the bridesmaids fluttering around like butterflies—Bailey adjusting floral centerpieces, Gaia double-checking seating arrangements, and Yasha teasing Reese so she wouldn't cry before the ceremony even began. I stood nearby, holding Oliver close, who looked extra adorable in his tiny tuxedo onesie.
Reese was a vision—radiant in a way that stole the breath right out of your chest. Her dress flowed like water—ivory silk embroidered with delicate wildflowers that trailed down the skirt like something out of a dream. It hugged her figure just enough to show the gentle swell of her three-month baby bump, a quiet reminder that today wasn't just a celebration of love, but of life beginning in more ways than one.
Her hair was swept back in soft waves, pinned delicately with a single white lily on the side, elegant and effortlessly Reese. She didn't say much—maybe afraid her voice would crack under the weight of the moment—but her eyes… her eyes shimmered with emotion too big for words. There was something luminous about her that day, as if every thread of joy, vulnerability, and promise was stitched right into her skin.
She wasn't just a bride.
She was a woman choosing her forever, carrying her future right beneath her heart.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered, staring at herself in the mirror.
"You're not just doing it," I said with a small smile. "You're choosing it. That's power."
She turned to me slowly, tears already pooling. "Damn it, Ophira. You were supposed to be the tough one."
We laughed, hugging carefully so we wouldn't wrinkle her dress.
Meanwhile, the chapel outside began to fill. Ozaire, standing with the other groomsmen, looked calm and collected, but he kept glancing toward the back as if checking for me.
Raiden stood at the altar, nervous and fidgety—his hand running through his styled hair more times than we could count. But despite the nerves, he looked incredibly dashing. His suit was sharp and tailored to perfection, deep navy with subtle charcoal undertones that caught the light just right. A crisp white shirt peeked beneath, and a silver pin fastened his tie—a nod, perhaps, to something meaningful only he and Reese knew. His boutonnière matched the lily in Reese's hair, small but striking against the lapel. He looked like he belonged in a magazine spread, but his eyes were locked on one thing alone.
The moment the music began and Reese appeared at the end of the aisle, everything stilled.
It was like time pressed pause.
Raiden's face crumpled in the most honest, unguarded way. I'd never seen him like that before. All that sarcasm, the teasing confidence—gone. All that remained was the man who loved her, stripped bare in front of everyone, eyes only for her.
Reese walked slowly, arm hooked around our father's, her lips trembling with a quiet smile. She didn't look at the guests or the decorations. She only looked at Raiden.
And he? He mouthed something that only she could hear.
"You're everything."
The ceremony was soft and personal, the kind that made you forget there was anyone else in the room besides them. The sun filtered gently through the glass-paneled walls of the venue, casting warm golden light across the flower-lined aisle and the faces of the people who mattered most.
Reese's voice trembled slightly when she began her vows, but there was nothing uncertain in her words. They were crafted like poetry—honest and raw. She spoke of storms and constellations, of the wild parts of herself she used to fear and how Raiden had never once flinched from them.
"I choose you," she said, voice thick with emotion, "not only in the calm but in the chaos. Not just on the days we're laughing, but on the days we're barely holding on. I choose you through every version of me that will exist, and every version of you that is still becoming."
Her words struck something deep in all of us. There wasn't a dry eye in sight.
Raiden took a quiet breath before speaking, his voice lower, steadier. But if Reese's vows were stardust, Raiden's were gravity—grounded, unshakable.
"I used to think love was about finding someone perfect," he said, glancing at her with the gentlest smile. "But then I met you. With your fire, your stubbornness, your laugh that never matches the moment—and I realized love was about finding someone real. You didn't change me with force. You changed me by simply being yourself. And I didn't even know I was becoming someone better until I looked in the mirror one day… and saw the man who gets to love you."
Even the officiant had to pause and breathe after that.
Their hands trembled slightly as they exchanged rings, but their gazes never wavered—not even for a second. It wasn't about a perfect fairytale. It was about choosing one another again and again, no matter the mess, the morning breath, the long nights, the moments they would undoubtedly get it wrong.
And when they kissed—gently, reverently, with the kind of care you only give to something sacred—it wasn't loud. It was quiet, but it echoed through every heart in the room.
Because in that moment, we all felt it:
Love, not in grand declarations, but in the way two people saw each other—completely—and chose to stay.
The reception was held in a nearby garden villa, tucked just beyond the hill, where lanterns swayed in the gentle evening breeze and fairy lights glittered like fireflies suspended in midair. Long tables were dressed in ivory linens and overgrown with wildflowers—peonies, baby's breath, eucalyptus—the kind of arrangements that felt like they belonged in a dream, not just a wedding.
Laughter rippled through the garden like a second soundtrack to the music playing softly in the background. Wine glasses clinked. Plates were filled and refilled. People floated from table to table, sharing memories and inside jokes that reached back years.
Toasts were made—sweet, embarrassing, tear-jerking ones. Gaia gave one that made Reese snort mid-sip. Bailey's toast made Raiden cry, which in turn made everyone else cry. Yasha stood up, already three glasses in, and declared she'd now officially be taking credit for getting them together—no matter how untrue it was.
Champagne spilled. Shoes were kicked off. Someone's tie ended up wrapped around a tree branch. The whole evening pulsed with a kind of wild, contagious joy.
And through it all, Oliver was passed around like a tiny royal guest of honor. Every pair of arms cradled him with awe—cooing at his soft hair, his sleepy blinks, the way his little hand wrapped around an adult's finger like it was a lifeline.
Until he reached our parents.
The moment he was in their arms, he stayed. Our mom wouldn't give him up, not even to Ozaire. "Go dance," she whispered, rocking Oliver gently. "We've got him. He's ours for tonight."
I watched them from across the garden, lit by the fairy lights. My heart swelled and softened all at once.
Later, as the music slowed into something timeless, Raiden pulled Reese onto the dance floor. The crowd thinned around them, giving them space—an unspoken respect for the moment. With her small baby bump between them, she moved like she belonged nowhere else but in his arms.
Their foreheads pressed together. They weren't talking anymore. They didn't need to.
The world shrank to just the two of them.
And in that stillness, I felt a hand gently reach for mine.
I turned.
Ozaire.
"Dance with me?" he asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried more meaning than I was ready for. Gentle. Steady. Patient.
I didn't say anything. I didn't have to.
I took his hand.
We stepped onto the edge of the dance floor, just beyond the spotlight, where the music hummed like a memory between us. He wrapped his arm around my waist carefully, like I might still pull away. I didn't.
We swayed slowly, like we were moving through a space carved just for us. No pressure. No expectations. Just… breath. Just presence.
Our son slept nearby in his stroller, one hand curled by his cheek, his little chest rising and falling with the rhythm of peace. And I realized—
This wedding wasn't just the beginning of Reese and Raiden's story.
It was something else too. A mirror. A reminder. A whisper of what could be, if we kept showing up.
Maybe love didn't need a name right away. Maybe it didn't need loud declarations, or timelines, or perfection.
Maybe it was this—
The way Ozaire looked at me like I was still the girl he wanted, even now.
The way he didn't rush me.
The way we still fit.
Maybe love was the choice we made in the quiet, over and over, even when the world was loud.
And under the warm, starlit sky of Reese's wedding night, as music filled the air and flowers spilled across the tables, I felt something bloom again.
Not all at once.
But enough.
Hope.
Real.
Soft.
Slow.
But finally here.
"Some loves come in fire, others in quiet blooms—but the ones that last are the ones we keep choosing, every single day."