The night before the wedding arrived like a whispered promise, soft and trembling at the edges. The villa glowed with lanterns strung across the courtyard, casting golden halos over the late September evening. Laughter floated through the air from the rehearsal dinner, where friends and family toasted to new beginnings and old battles survived. Music drifted on the breeze, slow and romantic, wrapping itself around the heart.
Aria stood at the edge of it all, half hidden behind a column draped with climbing roses. Her heart was a wild, fluttering thing, her hands trembling as she smoothed the silk of her dress. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would walk down the aisle toward Luca, not as part of a reluctant alliance, not as a girl bound by circumstance, but as a woman choosing the man she loved.
"Thinking about running?"
