Chapter 1260:
âWe hope you have a joyous marriage. Harlee is upstairs waiting for you,â Skyla said, beaming.
âThank you,â Rhys said, bowing once more to express his deep respect, and then made his way upstairs to where Harlee awaited.
Still somewhat out of it, Patrick moved forward and crouched, sliding money under the door. âMr. Green, the final challenge must be in there. Iâll try bribing them first.â
Without showing much interest, Rhys elegantly lifted his hand and knocked on the door.
Patrick was about to dismiss the gesture as futile when the door clicked open. He remained in his awkward crouch.
The silence that followed was palpable.
At that moment, Patrick realized he had overlooked Harleeâs true nature. Rhys, now at the doorway, nodded to Tiffany and stepped past the still-crouching Patrick into the festively adorned bedroom, where wedding symbols were scattered throughout, celebrating the occasion.
Peering around the corner, Rhys caught sight of Harlee seated regally on a large bed, a gold-embroidered fan obscuring her face, her posture impeccable.
Their gazes locked. They exchanged a smile full of understanding, as though every moment of waiting had been worth it.
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Gently, Rhys lowered himself to one knee before Harlee, his gaze softening. He extended his hand to hers.
In that instant, the world seemed to fall silent, enveloping them in their shared moment.
As Rhysâ larger hand enveloped Harleeâs smaller one, his grip on the bouquet faltered slightly. He inhaled deeply, steadying his emotions. âMy love, we can finally start our life together in our own cozy home.â A soft smile played on Harleeâs lips.
Carefully, Rhys withdrew the ornate fan from Harleeâs grasp, his hand snaking through it.
As the fan fell away, Rhys caught his breath. He was stunned. Before him was the breathtaking beauty of Harlee. She was the woman he had longed for in his daydreams and night thoughts for five years, the one he cherished above all others.
Tiffany positioned herself at the doorway, her smile lighting up the room. Next to her, Clint stood, his attention captured by Tiffanyâs expression. He tried to take her hand, but she skillfully dodged his gesture.
Despite Clintâs efforts, Tiffany remained hesitant to reciprocate his feelings.
With a self-deprecating chuckle, Clint exited the bedroom. After all, today was his sisterâs special day, and he would not let sadness overshadow it.
Tiffany pressed her nails into her palm, reminding herself that sometimes the beauty in a bittersweet ending was enough, and entering a life not meant for her would be a mistake.
Seeing Rhys still gaze at her in a daze, Harleeâs laughter broke the silence as she asked Rhys, âCould you help me with my shoes?â
Her request snapped Rhys out of his reverie. He looked over, noticed her shoes in the corner, stood up, and went to fetch them.
Harlee positioned her feet for him.
Rhys knelt once more, his hands shaky as he held one foot and struggled to fit the shoe. His hands trembled throughout the process, and it took him some time to manage both shoes.
Harlee, smiling, leaned in close and whispered in his ear, âDid you wonder why there were no wedding games? I didnât even hide my shoes.â
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