"Here, you are ready, Princess," Lera said softly, stepping back with a tired sigh after what felt like an eternity.
Ten long minutes—that's how long it had taken to perfect every fold, ribbon, and layer of Celeste's pristine white gown. The fabric shimmered faintly under the candlelight, flowing like starlight over her skin. Lera smiled faintly, her eyes glimmering with pride at the sight. "You look… absolutely breathtaking."
Celeste stared at her reflection in the mirror.
The girl staring back looked like a vision out of a dream—graceful, regal, radiant. The kind of beauty most could only envy. Yet, there was no joy in her eyes. No trace of the excitement a bride should have on such a day.
She had once dreamed of wearing such a dress, of course. Every girl did. She had imagined standing beneath the moonlight beside the man she loved—and that man had been Amael.
But now, seeing herself dressed as another man's bride only hollowed her heart further.
