She wore her bridal robe with rollers in her hair.
“Lauren, can you stop this? Seriously. You’re embarrassing yourself. Nobody wants to watch your small wedding. Just postpone it like a normal person.”
Mom nodded behind her.
I recorded one response.
“More than two million people are waiting for my wedding tomorrow. Small, maybe. But meaningful. And unlike yours, mine isn’t competing with anyone.”
Ryan laughed when I sent it.
By morning, sunlight covered the castle towers.
The production crew moved through the courtyard.
Guests arrived.
Harper stood behind me in the bridal suite, fastening the final clasp of my dress.
The gown had soft gold undertones, lace sleeves, and a train that caught the light whenever I moved.
“You look unreal,” she whispered.
I looked in the mirror.
It wasn’t the dress that struck me.
It was my face.
I didn’t look like someone waiting for her family’s approval.
The countdown reached zero.
The live stream began.
Comments raced across the monitors too quickly to read.
Then the music started.
Harper opened the door.
I stepped into the hallway and descended the staircase.
Guests rose in the courtyard.
Cameras followed the dress, veil, and warm light.
But once I saw Ryan, everything else disappeared.
His smile erased the production around us.
When I reached him, he took my hands.
“You’re breathtaking.”
“So are you.”
Our officiant was one of Ryan’s childhood mentors.
He spoke about the life we had already built rather than the spectacle surrounding us.
The breeze lifted my veil.
Later, someone monitoring the live chat showed me comments like:
I don’t even know them and I’m crying.
