Chapter 289
Chapter 51
The morning of Isla’s wedding arrived with a golden sunrise, the sky painted in soft pastels of peach and lavender. A crisp breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the scent of fresh roses and the distant hum of quiet preparations below.
She stirred as the cool gust of air kissed her cheeks, sending a shiver down her spine. The silk sheets pooled around her as she blinked, momentarily
disoriented. But then, as her gaze adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, she realized–today was the day.
A rustling sound pulled her attention toward the foot of the bed, where Maggie stood, her hands deftly pulling back the curtains with a dramatic flourish.
Sunlight flooded the room, bathing the walls in warm gold.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Maggie beamed, her voice brimming with excitement, her eyes twinkling with joy. “Rise and shine, bride–to–be!”
A delighted giggle bubbled from Isla’s lips as she pushed the covers aside and jumped off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool wooden floor. Without
hesitation, she darted toward the window, her breath catching as she looked outside.
And there it was–her wedding taking shape before her very eyes.
The sprawling garden below was alive with movement. A long, ivory carpet was being unrolled across the lush green grass, its edges held down by careful hands as staff members worked to smooth every crease. Elegant chairs, adorned with soft white covers and delicate gold ribbons, were being carefully placed in neat rows, facing the grand floral arch that stood at the end of the aisle.
Near the fountain, the catering service bustled about, setting up tables draped in pristine white linens, their surfaces soon to be adorned with decadent food and crystal glasses filled with champagne. Silverware clinked softly as it was meticulously arranged, the soft murmur of instructions blending with the
rustling leaves overhead.
A little farther away, by the gazebo, Pastor Romero stood in quiet contemplation, his aged hands clasped in front of him as he surveyed the preparations. The priest, a gentle soul from their local church, had always been a part of their lives, and now he would be the one to bless their union. The sight of him standing there, in his neatly pressed robes, made the reality of it all sink in.
This wasn’t just a dream.
This was real.
Her wedding–the day she had never allowed herself to truly picture–was happening.
The sight of it sent a rush of emotions crashing through her. Excitement, anticipation, and a lingering hint of nerves tangled in her chest. She gripped the windowsill, inhaling deeply, letting the fresh morning air calm her racing heart.
“Oh God, Maggie! Am I late?” Isla’s voice rang out, loud and panicked, before she even registered what she was saying,
The words barely left her lips before she noticed Maggie grimacing, hands clamped firmly over her ears, her face scrunched in exaggerated agony.
Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Isla had been shouting.
As always, when she got too excited, she forgot to control the volume of her voice. A nervous giggle bubbled up as she clapped a hand over her own mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” she said between breaths, laughter spilling through her apology.
Maggie, ever dramatic, sighed deeply as she lowered her hands. “Isla, my dear, I’d like to make it through this day without going deaf.” But the corners of
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3:29 am ppp
Chapter 289
her lips twitched upward in amusement. “And no, you’re not late, but if you keep spinning in circles like that, you might make yourself dizzy before we even
start getting you ready.”
Isla didn’t care. She was too giddy, too alive with excitement. With an impish grin, she twirled on her toes, letting the soft silk of her nightgown flutter around her as she moved. Her heart pounded, not from nerves, but from pure joy.
This is it.
Her big day.
The morning had been a whirlwind of excitement, filled with soft laughter and the hum of preparations. Isla had been floating on a cloud of anticipation, heart thrumming with the kind of joy she never thought she’d allow herself to feel.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
