The day began with soft sunlight spilling across the grand hotel ballroom, catching the glitter of the chandeliers and reflecting off the crystal table settings. Everything felt unreal, almost like a scene pulled from a fairytale. The floral arrangements filled the air with the scent of white roses and baby's breath, and the music playing faintly in the background felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat.
I looked at myself in the tall mirror one last time. My veil fell delicately over my shoulders, my gown hugged my frame perfectly, and my bouquet felt warm in my hands.
I swallowed hard.
"I can't believe this is happening," I whispered to my sister, Emma, who stood behind me adjusting my train.
She smiled brightly. "You deserve this, Jane. You really do."
I nodded, trying not to cry. My father should have been standing by that door, ready to walk me down the aisle, but he had been gone for years. Somehow, I felt him with me anyway.
The doors opened, and Emma slipped her hand into mine before gently handing me to my mother. She wasn't strong enough to walk me all the way, but she kissed my forehead and whispered, "Your father would be proud of you."
With that, I stepped into the aisle, and the room fell silent.
There he was.
Henry.
Tall, composed, and so breathtakingly handsome in his dark suit that I forgot how to breathe for a moment. The smile that tugged at the corner of his lips told me everything — he was the man I had chosen, the man who had chosen me, the man I wanted to spend my life with.
As I walked toward him, his expression softened in a way only I knew. He reached for my hands, and the warmth of his touch grounded me.
The ceremony was beautiful. Simple, intimate, full of love. When the officiant finally said, "You may now kiss the bride," Henry leaned in slowly, his hands framing my cheeks as if I were something delicate.
"You're mine," he whispered against my lips.
"And I'm yours," I whispered back.
The cheers that followed felt like a wave crashing over us.
The reception hall was even more stunning up close. Golden fairy lights draped from one end to another, casting a warm glow over the tables. Waiters moved gracefully between guests carrying trays of champagne, and the band played soft music that made the whole room feel like it was pulsing with joy.
Henry's mother, was the first to reach me. She wrapped me in a warm, tight embrace.
"Welcome to the family, my dear," she said with genuine affection. "You are exactly the kind of woman I prayed Henry would marry. Kind, graceful, and thoughtful."
I felt my chest swell. "Thank you, ma'am. I promise to love him with everything I have."
She took my hands with a soft smile. "You already do."
Henry's father, tall and slightly stern, approached next. His eyes were deep but kind.
"Jane," he said, giving a respectful nod. "You make my son very happy. That is all a father can ask for."
I bowed my head slightly. "Thank you, sir."
As the evening unfolded, guests approached us with congratulatory hugs and bright smiles. Henry guided me through each group, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
Emma tugged at my arm, laughing. "Jane, you should've seen Uncle Martin dancing earlier. He almost split his trousers."
I snorted softly. "Oh no."
Henry laughed behind me. "Your family knows how to have fun. I like that."
"I'm glad," I said, leaning lightly against him.
Dinner was served shortly after — a beautiful spread of roasted chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. We sat side by side, sharing smiles, stealing glances, completely wrapped in our own world.
When the toasts began, Henry squeezed my hand gently.
His best friend, Julian, stood with his glass raised. "To Henry and Jane," he said, grinning. "May your love outshine the stars. And Henry… may Jane continue to be the only one who can tolerate your stubbornness."
The hall burst into laughter.
Henry chuckled and whispered, "He's not wrong."
I nudged him playfully. "I know."
Then his mother stood, placing a hand over her heart. "To the bride and groom," she began. "Marriage is not only about the good days, but also about the days that challenge us. I pray that when those days come, you will hold onto each other tightly."
I felt a small shiver run down my spine, but I pushed the feeling aside.
When it was time for our first dance, the lights dimmed. Henry led me to the center of the room, his hand warm against mine. The soft melody of our song filled the hall, gentle and tender.
He pulled me close until our foreheads touched.
"You look beautiful," he murmured.
"And you look like a dream," I whispered.
We swayed slowly, the world fading around us. I felt safe. Loved. Cherished. I thought nothing could ever break us apart.
But even as I leaned into Henry's embrace, a faint whisper of doubt tugged at the corners of my mind — a feeling I couldn't name, one that told me life had its own plans.
Looking back now, I realize that during that very dance…
I had no idea how drastically my life was about to change.