Chapter 92: Chapter 100. All Dressed In White

Chapter 100 (Listen to the song!)

Theo and Daphne

Molly stood just a few steps away, a delicate lace handkerchief pressed to her cheek as she tried—and failed—to keep her tears at bay. Her eyes shimmered, brimming with emotion as she looked at her daughter, radiant in her wedding dress. Daphne looked ethereal, wrapped in soft ivory satin and layers of delicate tulle, her veil gently cascading down her back like a whisper of light.

"You look like an angel," Molly said through a teary smile, her voice catching slightly. "My sweet girl..."

Daphne turned toward her, her own eyes glossy now, overcome by the sheer weight of the moment.

"Mom," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Molly reached out and gently adjusted a strand of Daphne's hair, brushing it behind her ear with a mother's tender touch. "I always knew this day would come," she said, her lips trembling with another smile. "But nothing could've prepared me for how beautiful you'd look—how grown you are. And happy. That's what makes me cry the most."

Beside Daphne, Bill stood tall and proud, his arm linked through hers, his face crinkled with a soft smile beneath his gruff exterior. His eyes, however, told another story—brimming with just as much emotion as his wife's.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked gently, his voice low and steady, but Daphne could hear the hint of a tremble beneath it.

She looked up at him and nodded, her heart full. "More than anything."

Bill squeezed her arm. "Then I'm proud to walk you down that aisle, sweetheart. You've grown into an incredible woman."

"And Theo," Molly chimed in, reaching for Daphne's hand and clasping it tightly, "he's a good man. He's going to take care of you. He loves you in that rare kind of way—steady, fierce, forever. You're lucky to have found that."

"And he's lucky to have you," Bill added, his voice firm with conviction. "You're going to build a good life together. A beautiful one."

Daphne felt her throat tighten as she looked at the two people who had raised her, loved her, and shaped her.

"Thank you," she whispered, emotion bubbling in her chest. "For everything."

Molly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "You have all our blessings, baby. Go have your forever."

Bill nodded solemnly. "We're right behind you."

As the music swelled and the backyard doors prepared to open, Daphne took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around her father's arm—her heart overflowing with love, certainty, and the warmth of her parents' pride.

The grand French doors to Theo and Daphne's new home slowly opened with a soft creak, revealing the breathtaking sight beyond. All at once, the soft murmur of voices hushed, and the guests rose to their feet, turning with expectant smiles toward the glowing aisle that stretched ahead.

The backyard had been transformed into a dreamscape—a winter garden straight out of a fairytale. White flowers bloomed in elegant arrangements lining the aisle, their petals dusted with glimmers of frost. Hundreds of candles flickered in glass holders, casting a golden glow across the snow-dusted ground. Crystal chandeliers hung like starlight from the tree branches above, their delicate prisms catching the afternoon light and scattering it in soft rainbows.

Daphne stepped into view, framed in the doorway like a vision of grace and light, her arm looped through her father's. Her wedding dress glowed in the candlelight—soft satin and lace cascading around her like a snowdrop in bloom. Her veil fluttered gently in the breeze, trailing behind her like a whisper of silk.

As Daphne stepped onto the white carpeted aisle, she lifted her eyes—and there he was.

Theo stood at the end of the aisle, a striking silhouette beneath the floral arch, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux that somehow made him look even more impossibly handsome. His dark hair was neatly styled, a crisp white pocket square tucked into his jacket, and a single white rose pinned to his lapel.

But it was his eyes that caught her breath.

They were locked on her, wide and brimming with emotion—so much tenderness, so much awe, as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. His jaw was tight, his lips parted just slightly, as though he'd forgotten to breathe. For a fleeting moment, Daphne could see it—that flicker of vulnerability behind his composed exterior. He was holding himself together by a thread.

Her heart ached at the sight. She saw it now—how his hands clenched at his sides, how his chest rose with a sharp inhale. And then, as she took another step down the candlelit aisle, she realized he was restraining himself—not from emotion, but from movement. Like some instinct inside him was pulling him forward, desperate to run to her, to meet her halfway and take her in his arms.

And for a second, Daphne swore he almost did.

Her lips curved softly as she walked closer, the weight of her father's arm grounding her, but her gaze never leaving Theo. Her heart beat in rhythm with the music and the glimmering lights and the way his eyes followed every step she took, drinking her in as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

In that moment, nothing else existed—just the look on his face, the storm of love in his eyes, and the unspoken promise between them that whatever came next, they'd face it together.

Just as Daphne and her father slowly walked to the front of the aisle, Theo took a step forward.

Then another.

And another—unable to stop himself.

The guests let out soft murmurs and fond chuckles as Theo, eyes locked on his bride, left the altar and strode down the aisle, his expression a storm of emotion barely contained. He met Daphne and Bill halfway, his hands already held out toward for her, as if the distance between them was unbearable.

Bill stopped in his tracks, raising an amused brow at Theo's approach.

"Well," he said with a chuckle, glancing between them, "you couldn't even wait five more steps? We were almost there."

Laughter rippled gently among the guests, but there was warmth in Bill's voice—pride, love, and a bittersweet ache only a father could understand. He looked at Theo, his eyes misting despite the humor in his tone. "I can't let her go without you giving me your word first."

Theo nodded, solemn now, standing face to face with the man who raised the woman he loved. "Anything."

Bill's voice wavered as he looked at Daphne, then back at Theo. "Take care of her. Always. She's my whole heart. And you—you're a lucky man, Theodore Silvano. You're lucky to have her."

Daphne's throat tightened as she looked up at her father, eyes shimmering.

Theo didn't hesitate. "I'll never take her for granted," he said firmly, his voice steady and full of reverence. "I swear I'll take care of her for the rest of my life. I'll never make her cry—unless it's from laughing too hard. And I'll make every one of her dreams come true."

Bill's eyes spilled over, and he pulled Theo into a quick, heartfelt embrace before placing Daphne's hand into his.

"Then go on," he said, brushing a tear from his cheek. "She was always yours."

And with that, Theo turned to Daphne, his fingers lacing through hers as if he had been waiting his whole life for this very moment. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his chest rising with the release of something heavy and sacred—like relief, awe, and pure devotion all tangled into one.

As they walked together toward the altar, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in a blur of candlelight and soft music, white petals beneath their feet, and love in every heartbeat.

Guests watched with tender smiles, the winter garden holding its breath in reverent silence. Snowflakes drifted softly from the sky like nature itself had decided to bless this moment.

At the altar, the officiant welcomed them with a warm, knowing smile, and Theo guided Daphne into place beside him with care, his hand brushing her waist with a gentleness that made her heart flutter. His eyes never left hers—not for a second.

The ceremony began, and every word spoken felt like poetry wrapped in truth.

When it came to exchanging vows, Theo cleared his throat and smiled, his features stained with a nervousness that was foreign to him.

Theo's voice was low but steady when he spoke, the words falling from his lips like a sacred vow etched straight from his soul.

"You are my heart's home, Daphne." He began. "You've been my light when I was lost, my calm, my fire, and my future. I promise to love you with the kind of love that never stops choosing you—every day, in every version of life we live."

"I promise to love you in every season—when things are effortless and when they're hard. I promise to be the man who listens, who learns, who grows beside you. I promise to make space for your dreams and protect your heart like it's my own. Because it is. It's always been."

A quiet smile touched his lips as he glanced down for a second, collecting himself before continuing.

"I promise to laugh with you, to carry your burdens when they feel too heavy, to dance with you in the kitchen when no one's watching, and to hold your hand through every twist and turn life throws our way. I promise to kiss you good morning and goodnight, to tell you I love you even when we're old and wrinkled and arguing about how to load the dishwasher."

Soft laughter stirred among the guests, but Theo's gaze never wavered from Daphne.

"And one day," he added gently, "when we're watching our children run through the backyard, or when we're sitting on the porch with tired eyes and full hearts—I want you to know that I'll still look at you the same way I'm looking at you right now."

His voice dropped, tender and full of awe. "With everything in me. With every part of who I am. I love you, Daphne. And I will keep loving you, choosing you, protecting you—forever."

​​Daphne let out a soft, watery laugh through her tears, the sound tender and trembling all at once. Her fingers flew to her cheeks, brushing away the tears that had spilled freely down her face during Theo's vows—tears of overwhelming love, gratitude, and something almost too sacred to name.

"I'm sorry," she choked out with a teary smile, clutching the small card with her vows in her hands. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry."

The guests chuckled warmly, and Theo reached out to gently squeeze her hand, grounding her with that familiar, steady touch.

Daphne took a breath—then another—her shoulders shaking with a mix of laughter and emotion. "But then you said all that... and how am I supposed to compete with that?" she teased, her voice still thick with emotion, earning a few more quiet laughs from the crowd.

She looked up at Theo, her eyes shimmering like sunlight on water. "Okay... okay, I'm going to try," she whispered more to herself than anyone else.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held her vows in front of her, but her voice was soft and clear as she began.

"My dearest Theodore," Daphne smiled, her voice cracking as she spoke his name. "You walked into my life like a storm," she said, her eyes never leaving his, "loud, stubborn, infuriatingly confident... and somehow, from the very beginning, you felt like home."

Theo smiled at her, eyes glassy with emotion, his thumb brushing her knuckles.

"I spent so long thinking love was something you had to earn, something you had to deserve. But then you came along and showed me that real love... the kind that stays... it's not earned. It's given. Freely. Fearlessly."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she blinked through another tear, laughing gently again. "I love you for your tenderness, for how you challenge me, protect me, and see me even when I can't see myself. I love the way you love your family, the way you kiss my nose when I'm nervous, the way you talk to our plants like they're people—yes, I've seen you."

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and even Theo laughed, shaking his head fondly.

"I promise to love you with everything I have and everything I am. To be your calm when life gets loud, your warmth when days feel cold, your partner through every beautiful and messy chapter we build together. I promise to choose you—every day, every version of us, always."

As she finished, another tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn't bother wiping it this time. She simply smiled through it, glowing with love, heart wide open, as Theo looked at her like he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life

The officiant smiled and stepped forward once more. The rings were brought out and Theo gently slid the band onto Daphne's finger, his thumb lingering on her knuckle, trembling as if this was the most sacred thing he had ever done.

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant said, smiling.

Theo didn't hesitate—he pulled Daphne into him, one hand cradling her face, the other curling at her waist as he kissed her with a fierce tenderness like every part of him had been waiting for this exact moment since the beginning of time.

The guests erupted in applause and cheers, but for Theo and Daphne, the world had narrowed to just the two of them—the kiss, the vows, the weight of their love made real.

When they finally broke apart, Theo rested his forehead against hers, whispering, "Forever starts now, Sunshine."

And Daphne, glowing with love, whispered back, "Bring it on."

______________________

Lily (Earlier)

Lily stepped into the aisle, her heels clicking softly against the stone path, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the ceremony. She looked radiant in the elegant white dress Daphne had chosen for all her guests—a silky, off-the-shoulder gown that flowed like water with every graceful step she took. The delicate fabric hugged her frame just right, and a pair of pearl earrings glinted beneath her softly curled hair. She looked ethereal, almost dreamlike, like she had stepped right out of a painting.

As she walked past rows of guests, Lily's eyes flicked forward and instantly found Gabriel's.

He was standing near the front, dressed in a black suit that made her heart skip a beat all over again. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she appeared, and a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That one look sent heat rushing up her neck.

Lily's cheeks flushed, her fingers tightening slightly around the bouquet she held. She tried to focus on her steps, tried to stay composed, but all she could think about was the way Gabriel had kissed her in the bathroom just moments ago—how his hands had cradled her face, how her back had pressed against the marble counter, how breathless she'd been when they finally pulled apart. Her lips still tingled from it, her heart still fluttering from the way he'd whispered her name like it meant something more.

His hands under her dress, his hard body pressed against her, his lips over her skin....

Lily looked away quickly, biting back a smile she couldn't quite hide. Her skin was still warm, her pulse still dancing beneath the surface. And as she reached the front and took her place, she could still feel Gabriel's gaze lingering on her—like a secret they were both still carrying between them. She wondered if he was remembering it too. Judging by the look in his eyes... he absolutely was.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, Lily caught Wendy's gaze from where she stood beside her in the bridesmaids' row.

Wendy was watching her closely, her expression unreadable—until one perfectly arched brow lifted ever so slightly.

Lily's breath caught.

The moment felt like a pinprick to a balloon, the weight of reality rushing back in all at once. Her heart gave a sharp little twist, and the smile she'd been trying to hold onto slipped, faltering just enough for Wendy to notice.

She looked away again, quickly, her fingers tightening around the bouquet. The warmth that had been blooming inside her seconds ago was now replaced with a cold, sinking guilt. Because Wendy didn't even have to say anything—the look alone had been enough.

Lily still hadn't told Gabriel the truth.

And no matter how sweet his smile had been, no matter how intoxicating that kiss in the bathroom had felt... he still didn't know.

Her chest ached as she stood in silence, surrounded by white dresses and soft music, all while her secret loomed like a shadow just behind her.

_____________________

Theo and Daphne

The soft golden hour light bathed the winter garden in a warm, dreamy glow as Daphne and Theo posed for photos after the ceremony. The air was crisp, and the snow-dusted white flowers surrounding them seemed to sparkle beneath the chandeliers still swaying gently from the trees.

Daphne stood with her hands gently curled around Theo's, her satin gown catching the light like liquid ivory. Her veil fluttered behind her in the breeze, and her cheeks were still flushed from the rush of emotion. Her eyes sparkled with laughter and love, the kind of joy that only came from knowing her forever had just begun.

Theo couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You look unreal," he murmured, his voice low and tender by her ear as the photographer snapped another picture. "Like something out of a dream. And you're mine."

She smiled shyly, but he leaned in closer, brushing a kiss to her temple, his arms sliding around her waist as the photographer gently directed them into another pose.

"I mean it," he said softly, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. "I don't think I'll ever forget how you looked today. You were so beautiful walking toward me—but seeing you standing here now, dressed as my bride... it's everything I've ever wanted."

Daphne blinked back tears again, laughing breathlessly. "You're going to make me cry all over again."

"Let me," he whispered with a smile. "Because I'm so damn happy, baby. Happier than I've ever been. I can't believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you."

He kissed her gently again—her cheek, her knuckles, her forehead—unable to stop touching her, like he still needed to convince himself this wasn't a dream.

The photographer called out a few more instructions, but Theo hardly seemed to hear. His attention never left Daphne, his hands never stopped holding her, and his love for her was written in every soft smile, every quiet word, and every gaze that lingered just a little longer than necessary.

______________________

Luca and Daisy

Luca gently twirled Daisy across the dance floor, his hands steady on her waist as she spun gracefully in his arms. The soft, elegant music swelled around them, and as she completed her turn, Luca pulled her back toward him, holding her close. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, the world around them fading away as their eyes locked.

Luca's gaze filled with warmth and admiration, his lips curling into a tender smile as he whispered, "I'm so in love with you, Sunshine."

Daisy rested her head against his chest for a moment, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her. She smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with the same love she'd felt for him through the years.

"I know," she replied with a playful glint, but then her voice softened as she added, "And I am head over heels for you."

Luca's arms tightened around Daisy as they swayed together, the soft glow of the dance floor lighting their faces. He couldn't help but marvel at the years they'd shared, the memories that filled every corner of their lives.

As they moved, his fingers lightly brushed against the back of her neck, drawing her even closer. He kissed the top of her head, the words slipping out with the same warmth and sincerity that had never wavered.

"I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this life," he said, his voice filled with tenderness,

Daisy pulled back, "This life? You're an idiot if you think you're going to be with anyone else in any other life."

Luca laughed softly, his chest vibrating with the sound, and he pulled Daisy even closer, the warmth of her body grounding him in the present moment. Her words, playful but serious, made his heart swell, and he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"You're right," he said, his voice low and filled with affection. "There's no one else. Not in this life, not in any other."

Daisy's lips curled into a tender smile. "Good," she replied with a wink, "because you know I don't share. Not then, not now, not ever, and certainly not in the next life."

Luca chuckled, his hands tracing small circles on her back as they danced, the rhythm of the music almost forgotten as they lost themselves in the quiet intimacy of the moment. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm yours, now and always."

Daisy's heart fluttered at his words. "I don't ever want anyone else," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're it for me, Luca. Always have been. Always will be."

Luca kissed her gently, his lips lingering against hers. As they pulled away, he couldn't help but glance toward Theo and Daphne, who were lost in their own world on the other side of the dance floor, so full of love and joy.

"Look at them," Luca said, his voice filled with pride as he nodded toward their son and his bride. "They've got that same spark we had."

"I know," Daisy murmured, "they're perfect together. Just like us."

Luca's arms tightened around her again. "I'm so damn lucky," he whispered, more to himself than to Daisy, "to have found you."

"You're really laying on the romance thick tonight, aren't you?" Daisy laughed.

"Maybe," Luca shrugged. "Or maybe I just want to marry you again."

"Again?" Daisy arched her brow.

"Do you have any objection?" Luca chuckled. "To marrying me again. To renewing our vow?"

Daisy leaned into his embrace and shook her head, "It will always be a yes."

They swayed in silence for a moment, their hearts in perfect sync, each content to simply be in the arms of the other, surrounded by the love they'd cultivated through years of laughter, challenges, and unwavering commitment.

As Luca and Daisy continued to dance, lost in the warmth of the moment, they were suddenly interrupted by a soft voice.

"May I cut in?" Levi stood at the edge of the dance floor with a grin on his face. He was dressed in his best, a reflection of the man he had become, and for a moment, it was impossible to miss the traces of Luca in him, especially in the way he held himself.

Luca smiled and gave Daisy's hand a gentle squeeze before he nodded toward Levi. "You damn kids always take her from me," he said with a chuckle, his voice warm. He leaned in and whispered, "Don't let her step on your toes," before stepping back and watching as Levi reached for Daisy.

With a slight tilt of her head, Daisy smiled at Levi, a mix of pride and love in her gaze. "Don't you look so dashing. Just like your dad before he learned how to smile," she teased lightly, her voice full of affection.

Levi grinned as he took her hand. "You look even better." He gently led her onto the dance floor.

As they began to sway together, Luca stepped back to watch, his heart full as he saw his son now grown, dancing with the woman who had always been his heart's anchor. Daisy smiled up at Levi, savoring the connection they shared in that moment, knowing that he had turned into a remarkable man.

A moment later, Lily, stepped forward, a playful smile on her face as she asked, "Am I too old for a dance, Daddy?"

Luca laughed as Lily threw her arms around his neck.

"Never, my sweet girl," he said, kissing her head. "You'll always be my baby."

____________________

Wendy and Mason

Wendy sat back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with amusement as Richard, Mason's grandfather, recounted yet another one of Mason's childhood stories. Richard had a way of telling them that made the most ordinary things seem hilarious, and it was clear how fond he was of his grandchildren.

"And they had too much fun pretending to be the other," Richard said, his voice full of nostalgia, his laughter spilling out as he clapped Mason on the back. Mason, sitting beside Wendy, rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips as his grandfather continued. "I would go days thinking this one was Levi," Richard added, chuckling heartily.

Wendy laughed along, her gaze flickering between Mason, who was trying to hide his embarrassment, and Richard, who clearly enjoyed every moment of teasing his grandson.

"You'd think Levi was Mason when you saw them running around the house, switching places for fun," Richard continued, shaking his head in disbelief at the memory. "Mason would do such a good job, I'd forget who was who!"

Mason gave a mock glare to his grandfather, but the fondness in his expression was unmistakable. "Yeah, we were a bit of trouble back then," he said, looking at Wendy with a sheepish grin. "Levi always insisted on being the 'cool' one, and I just... went along with it."

Wendy's smile grew wider as she leaned back, her eyes studying Mason's face. There was something endearing about hearing these stories. She could almost picture the two of them as kids, swapping identities, laughing, and getting into trouble. It made her feel closer to him, like she was seeing him through a different lens.

Richard's laugh filled the air again as he continued. "Oh, and don't get me started on the costumes they'd come up with! One day Mason had this ridiculous idea of dressing up as a pirate to confuse Levi's friends. He made his own eye patch out of fabric and tried to convince them he was 'Captain Levi.'"

Wendy couldn't help but giggle at the thought. "That sounds like something Mason would do." She shot Mason a teasing glance, loving how Richard's stories painted such a vivid picture of his playful childhood.

Mason, clearly flustered now, ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright, Grandpa. Let's not get into the details," he said, laughing along with the family. But the twinkle in his eyes told Wendy that, despite his attempts to deflect, he was secretly enjoying being the subject of these affectionate stories.

Richard winked at Wendy, clearly enjoying the moment. "He was quite the character, this one. You've got yourself a handful there."

Wendy's smile deepened as she looked at Mason, "He is defiantly special."

"Aww, sunshine," Mason draped his arm behind Wendy's chair. "You think I'm special?"

"You gotta tie down the special ones, you know," Richard chuckled and gave his grandson a wink. "Theo crossed over. Now it's your turn, Mason."

Mason felt the shift in Wendy's body before he even saw the look on her face. Her smile faltered for just a second, and he could tell the mention of marriage had hit a nerve. He knew better than anyone that Wendy wasn't a fan of that kind of talk—especially not at a family wedding surrounded by all the love and expectations of others.

The mention of tying someone down, of Theo's "crossing over" into marriage, had made something tighten in Wendy's expression. She was uncomfortable and Mason could feel the tension in the way she sat just a little straighter, her posture stiffening as if trying to distance herself from the conversation.

Richard, oblivious to the subtle change in Wendy, continued, "She's already dressed in white. Let's kill two bird with one stone tonight."

Mason's heart skipped a beat at the remark. His grandfather's words, meant to be playful, stung more than he expected. The pressure of the idea—of the assumptions around love, commitment, and the inevitable "next step"—hung in the air like an unwanted cloud.

Mason was used to his family's lighthearted teasing, but he knew better than to let it linger when it made Wendy feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel trapped or pressured into a conversation she didn't want to have.

He leaned in, his voice low and a little softer than before, making sure only she could hear him. "Hey, let's get out of here for a second," he said, his hand gently brushing against hers under the table. He wasn't going to let this moment ruin their night. He stood up, offering her his hand with a soft smile. "I want to dance with my beautiful girlfriend, grandpa. Excuse us for a minute."

Wendy hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on the table as if she were debating whether to stay or go. But when she looked up, she found his warm, reassuring eyes. She sighed, giving him a small, grateful smile, and took his hand, allowing him to lead her away from the table.

As they made their way to the dance floor, Mason kept his arm around her, pulling her gently toward him. Once they were safely away from the noise and the conversation, he pulled her closer, his tone shifting to something quieter, more intimate.

"I'm so sorry," Mason murmured into her ear, his voice low and sincere. "I know how you feel about all that marriage stuff. He doesn't always know when to stop with the jokes."

Wendy gave a small smile as she rested her head against his chest.

"It's fine," she replied, her voice a little hushed.

"Is it?" Mason smiled down at her. He reached up and brushed back some of her hair.

"I don't know," Wendy sighed. "I just.....sometimes it feels like people expect certain things, and I don't know if I fit into that. You know?"

Mason's arms wrapped around her a little tighter as they swayed to the music. "You don't ever have to fit into anyone's mold, Wendy. Not with me," he said quietly, his words just for her. "I just want you to be you."

Wendy's heart softened at his words, and she smiled up at him, "And that's enough for you?"

"Absolutely, pretty gril," Mason grinned.

"What about your grand plan?" Wendy tilted her head. "I thought you were looking for your soulmate, a house with a picket fence, two kids, and a dog."

Mason hesitated for a moment, his expression faltering. "I don't know anymore," he said quietly, almost like he was admitting it to himself for the first time.

"I used to think I wanted the whole thing. The love story. The ring. The house with the fence. The loud Sunday breakfasts with kids and a dog at our feet. But now..." He trailed off, searching her eyes. "Sometimes I think maybe I just said all that because it sounded good. Because it's what people are supposed to want."

Wendy's smile faded slightly. Something cold and unfamiliar pricked at her chest. His words were honest—gentle, even—but they landed with a strange, heavy weight.

She didn't respond right away. She just looked at him, her thoughts churning beneath the surface.

Mason gave her a faint smile, trying to lighten the moment. "Maybe I don't really know what I want yet. Maybe I'm still figuring it out. Like you."

But the words didn't comfort her. If anything, they made her stomach twist.

Because she knew what she wanted—or more accurately, what she didn't want.

She didn't believe in grand love stories. She didn't believe in soulmates or fate or all the glittering things people kept reaching for like they were real. Weddings, vows, forever—it all felt like some elaborate performance she couldn't connect with.

And yet Mason could.

Or at least, he used to. Even if he was unsure now, Wendy could still see the part of him that lit up at speeches about love, at sentimental gestures, at the idea of something deeper and lasting. That warmth in him—she'd seen it all night, especially when he looked at Theo and Daphne, or smiled during his father's toast.

And it hit her, quietly and painfully, that maybe they were more different than she'd let herself admit.

Mason still wanted a love story.

And Wendy wasn't sure she'd ever be able to give him one.

She pressed her cheek against his chest again, letting the music carry them through the rest of the song, but the ache inside her wouldn't go away. It stayed, hollow and cold, whispering a truth she hadn't wanted to face.

As Mason swayed Wendy, Lily appeared by their side just as the song was fading into its final notes, her heels clicking softly against the floor and her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the celebration.

"Mace," she said, gently placing a hand on his arm, her voice light but purposeful. "It's time. We're up."

Mason looked down at Wendy one last time, sensing the lingering tension in her eyes. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if trying to hold her there with him a little longer.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said quietly, though something in his expression lingered, as if he wasn't quite ready to let go.

Wendy stepped back, letting her arms fall to her sides as Lily, Levi, and Mason made their way toward the stage. She watched them climb the steps, a picture of sibling unity—Lily in her graceful poise, Levi with his casual confidence, and Mason, still smiling, slipping easily into the spotlight.

They looked like a perfect trio, their bond glowing beneath the golden lights as they prepared to raise a toast to their brother and his new wife.

Wendy stayed at the edge of the dance floor, watching from a distance. Applause rippled through the room as the three took their place in front of the microphone—Lily in her elegant dress, Levi looking effortlessly cool, and Mason with his familiar easy smile. He glanced briefly toward her in the crowd, just a flicker of connection before turning back to the room full of expectant faces.

And suddenly, Wendy felt it again—that cold, hollow ache pressing against her ribs. A quiet understanding, sharp and undeniable.

She didn't belong in that world.

Not the speeches. Not the sentimental toasts. Not the hopeful, glittering promises of forever.

Mason stepped forward first, lifting his glass and tapping the microphone gently. The crowd quieted.

"Well," he began, his voice warm and steady, "I'm not really one for big speeches—Levi is usually the social one—but tonight's a little different. Tonight, we're here for something kind of incredible."

He glanced toward Theo and Daphne, his smile softening. "I've known Theo my whole life, thanks to our parents who thought big man needed friends so they decided to pop out three more identical copies."

The crowd chuckled.

"But believe me," Mason added. "That's not always been easy. Where do you think Levi got his charming personality from?"

Levi, standing off to the side beside Lily rolled his eyes. Mason laughed as Lily swatted his arm.

"But back to Theo," Mason returned his attention to the bride and groom. "Watching him fall in love with Daphne... watching how they just fit—like pieces of a puzzle that finally snapped into place—it's honestly one of the best things I've seen."

His eyes swept over the room before returning to the couple. "Theo, found someone who challenges you, balances you, makes you better—and still manages to laugh at your bad jokes. That's love, man. That's the real stuff."

He paused, lifting his glass higher. "To Theo and Daphne—the kind of love that makes everything else quieter. Cheers."

A warm wave of applause followed, glasses clinking, a few teary-eyed guests dabbing their eyes with napkins. Wendy clapped along, her hands moving on autopilot, but the ache in her chest only deepened.

Lily stepped forward next, her voice bright and sincere.

"Daphne," she sighed and tilted her head to look at the blushing bride. "I've always believed Theo would end up with someone extraordinary," she said. "But my darling... you've gone above and beyond what I could've ever hoped for my brother. You're strong and kind and smart—and you've made him the happiest I've ever seen him."

She glanced toward the couple, her expression glowing with affection. "I think real love—the lasting kind—looks something like what you have with Theo. It's the way he looks at you. In the way you hold his hand when no one's watching. In the way you both make each other feel safe."

Lily smiled, her voice softening. "You make each other glow from within and that's rare. That's beautiful. And I'm so, so happy to witness it."

She raised her glass. "To a love like their's. To Theo and Daphne."

Another round of applause swept through the crowd.

Wendy stood there silently, clapping politely when the moment called for it—but all the while, something inside her was slowly pulling away. The more she listened to them speak—their voices full of tenderness and hope—the more it felt like she was standing outside a window, looking into a world she didn't understand, didn't believe in, and maybe never would.

And next to her, that invisible distance between herself and Mason only grew.

_____________________________

Lily

Lily was mid-conversation, laughing politely with a pair of family friends near the edge of the reception hall, the soft hum of music and clinking glasses weaving around them like a gentle buzz of celebration. Her cheeks were flushed from happiness, her heart light and fluttery in her chest. The fairy lights strung overhead cast a soft golden glow across the room, and everything felt warm and magical—like the kind of night you never wanted to end.

Her eyes swept over the crowd before landing on Gabriel. He was walking toward her through the crowd, his dark hair tousled just enough to make her heart skip. His eyes found hers instantly, a quiet smile tugging at his lips, and something in Lily sparked to life all over again.

Without thinking, without hesitation, she excused herself from the conversation and practically skipped toward him, her white dress flowing behind her like a ripple of light. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor, but she barely felt them—her entire body was humming with joy, with excitement, with him.

"Hey," she breathed, grinning as she reached him, her eyes bright with the kind of giddy happiness she couldn't contain.

Gabriel chuckled at her enthusiasm, catching her hands as she threw her arms around him with a bounce of energy. "Someone's in a good mood."

"It's my brother's wedding," Lily said, beaming. "Of course I'm in a good mood."

She swayed a little in his arms, playfully rocking them back and forth. "Everything feels so perfect tonight. I just want to dance until my feet fall off."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, amused. "All night?"

"All night," she said with a playful grin. "With you."

His gaze softened. "Then come dance with me."

He didn't wait for an answer—he took her hand and led her toward the dance floor, weaving through the crowd with ease. The lights were soft and golden, the music slow and dreamy. Gabriel pulled her into him, one hand on her waist, the other laced with hers.

Lily melted into him instantly, her head tilting back slightly to meet his eyes. The way he looked at her made her knees weak—like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Gabriel's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, tender and full of quiet awe. Then, with a softness that made her breath catch, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek. The touch was so light, so reverent, it sent a warm shiver down her spine.

Lily's smile faltered just slightly, her breath hitching as her heart swelled in her chest. She leaned into his touch instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut for half a second before finding his again.

And then he kissed her. It wasn't rushed or wild—it was slow, tender, full of everything he wasn't saying out loud. His lips moved against hers with a sweetness that made her feel like the rest of the world had disappeared. Her heart soared, light and dizzy, like she might float right out of her skin. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe she'd grown wings—like the fluttering inside her heart itself could lift her right off the ground.

By the time he pulled back, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, Lily was breathless, glowing from the inside out.

____________________________

Mason and Wendy

Outside the reception, the music and laughter felt distant, muffled beneath the hum of crickets and the soft rustle of wind against the trees. The night air was cool, laced with the faint scent of roses and champagne.

Mason stepped out, scanning the quiet terrace until he spotted Wendy, standing in a dimly lit corner near the ivy-covered wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

He started toward her, a small smile forming on his face—until he saw the shimmer of tears on her cheeks. His heart dropped.

"Wendy? Baby?"

She didn't look up right away, just wiped at her face quickly, trying to hide the evidence. But it was too late. Mason was already beside her, his voice suddenly tight with concern.

"Hey, hey—what's wrong?" He reached out, gently touching her arm. "Why are you crying? Did something happen?"

Wendy gave a soft, shaky laugh—one that held no real humor. "No, nothing happened."

Mason's brows furrowed, panic curling in his chest. "Then what is it? Talk to me."

She finally met his eyes, and her voice came low and heavy. "Mason... I don't think we're going to work out."

Mason blinked, confused by the seriousness in her eyes. His smile faltered, just slightly, but he forced a light chuckle, trying to wave off the weight in her voice.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Ms. Darling," he said, shaking his head. "It's cold out here. Let's get you inside. You owe me another dance and they're about to cut the cake—"

"Mason."

Wendy's voice stopped him. Gentle, but firm. Unmoving. She didn't take his hand. Didn't follow his lead.

Mason's smile faded completely now. He studied her face again, really looked, and saw the pain swimming in her eyes. The tears clinging to her lashes weren't a joke. Her trembling lips weren't teasing.

"...Wait," he said slowly, the air shifting between them and deflating from his lungs. "You're serious?"

Wendy nodded once. Quiet. Steady. But the crack in her composure was growing with every second.

"I'm serious," she said.

Mason stared at her, stunned. Like he couldn't quite process what he was hearing.

"No. No, come on, don't do this." He stepped closer again, his voice almost pleading now. "You're overwhelmed, I get that. I'm so sorry for asking you to come to the wedding with me. Maybe this was too soon. Maybe the speeches got to you or—whatever. But we can talk about it. Don't just—don't say stuff like that."

"I'm not overwhelmed," Wendy whispered. "I'm just being honest."

He shook his head, heart pounding. "You're saying this now? Out of nowhere?"

"It's not out of nowhere," Wendy said softly. "You just didn't see it coming because I didn't want to see it either. But it's always been there, Mason. You want something real, something lasting, something with meaning. I just... don't believe in any of that."

Mason's breath caught in his throat. He looked at her like a rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet.

"But I don't need us to look like anyone else's," he argued, reaching for her again. "I'm not asking for vows and fairy tales. I'm asking for you. Just you. When I said I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore, I meant it. I meant I'm still figuring it out too. We don't have to be like Theo and Daphne, or like anyone else. We can do it our own way—our own version of love, whatever that looks like."

Wendy's eyes welled up again, but she stepped back a little, the space between them turning cold.

"And I'm telling you that one day, it won't be enough. You'll wake up and realize you still want the story, and I'll never be able to give it to you. I don't want to hurt you like that."

Mason stood there, devastated, arms falling helplessly to his sides. He didn't know what to say. The words seemed stuck in his throat, and the silence stretched between them, sharp and painful.

But after several long, torturous seconds, the weight of her words finally hit him. They sank in slowly at first, then all at once. His chest tightened, and that dull ache in his heart quickly morphed into something sharper—something he couldn't ignore.

He shook his head slowly, disbelief creeping into his expression as he took a step toward her.

"No," he said quietly, his voice suddenly firm. "No, you're not doing this. You're not just walking away from me."

"Mason, please," Wendy said, shaking her head. "Don't make this such a big deal."

"I'm not accepting this," he snapped, his voice a little louder now, though still steady. "I'm not just going to sit here and let you decide that this is over."

Wendy's face softened with sadness, but she pressed on. "You can't keep me around if you know deep down I'm not the person you need."

His hand shot out before he even thought about it, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her closer. She looked up at him, her eyes a mix of pain and frustration, but he wasn't going to let this go.

"No," he said again, more forcefully this time. "I don't care what you think I need. I'm not going to let you walk away from this. Not like this."

Wendy pulled back slightly, but Mason just stood there, stubborn, his gaze unwavering. He could see the hurt in her eyes—the same hurt he felt—but there was a wall there now, a coldness that made him want to break it down.

"You think I'm going to wake up one day and want something else," he said, his voice quieter now but no less insistent. "You're wrong. I don't want anyone else. I want you. Not some damn fairy tale, but you."

Wendy held her ground, despite her voice trembling. "I don't want to be the one holding you back from finding what you really want, Mason. You deserve someone who believes in all that—that love, the one you want to wake up to every day. Someone who can give you what I can't."

Mason's jaw clenched, and he shook his head, his hand still holding onto her, unwilling to let go.

"No," he repeated softly, but with an undeniable force. "You don't get to make that choice for me. Not when I'm standing right here, telling you that I'm choosing you. I'm not backing down from this. I won't let you walk away thinking you're not enough for me."

Wendy's expression faltered, and she pulled gently against him, but Mason didn't let go. He held her firmly, but there was no aggression, just a quiet determination. He could feel the panic creeping in, but he fought it, refusing to let her pull away.

"Please, Wendy," he said, his voice cracking just a little. "I'm not asking for a fairy tale. I'm not asking for perfect. I'm asking for us. Just you and me, whatever that looks like. And I'm not letting go of that."

Wendy's breath caught in her throat as she stood there, caught between his grip and her own heart, which felt like it was tearing in two. She knew what he wanted, what he was offering, and it was everything she couldn't give. She tried to steady herself, but the cold ache in her chest was growing, making her feel like she was suffocating.

"Mason..." she whispered, her voice shaking. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. "I can't."

His grip loosened just slightly, as if hoping to hear something different. "You can, baby. We can make this work. I'm not asking for perfection, I swear. I just want you. I don't need all that other shit."

But Wendy shook her head, slowly, painfully.

"No." The word felt final even as it left her mouth. "I can't be with you like this. I can't keep you with me knowing I'm stopping you from finding what you really want. There's someone out there waiting for you. YOu deserve to find them."

Mason opened his mouth, trying to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He was still holding onto her, but it felt like he was holding onto something slipping away.

Wendy looked down at their hands, and then back at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm not your person."

The finality of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart hammered in his chest, but he didn't know what else to say. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't asking for the fairy tale, that it wasn't about love stories or soulmates, but he couldn't find the words to make her understand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the sorrow in her eyes matching his. "But this isn't working. It's not fair to either of us."

Mason stood there, his hands falling helplessly to his sides as her words settled over him like a weight he couldn't lift. He had no words left, only a hollow ache, and a quiet desperation that wouldn't fade. He couldn't make her stay.

Wendy turned away from him, and with every step she took, Mason felt the distance between them stretch farther, until all that remained was the quiet, aching emptiness of the cold night air.

This chapter was a ride lol <3 What will happen now?