Chapter 42. The Wedding

Two weeks disappeared like smoke.

The world had narrowed to white lace and whispered orders—to the bitter taste of pills that blurred night and day, sleep and waking.

She couldn’t remember the last meal she had eaten. Or the last night she had truly slept.

Now, she stood in the private room beside the church altar, surrounded by mirrors and lilies. The scent was suffocating—sweetness clinging to her throat.

Her gown was perfect. Traditional. Silk and lace, a full skirt heavy with embroidery. A train that trailed like spilled light. Pearl buttons ran down her spine, and her veil—long, sheer, almost weightless—pooled quietly at her feet.

Her makeup was flawless. A delicate, natural glow that lied for her—covering the dullness of her skin, the shadows carved beneath her eyes.

She looked alive, and she had never felt more dead.

Simona hovered nearby, adjusting a fold of the skirt that didn’t need adjusting. Her reflection looked pale in the mirr