IMOGEN'S POV
The anteroom smelled like gardenias and old wood polish. I pressed my palms against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breathing. Through the heavy oak doors, I could hear the soft murmur of guests settling into their pews. The organ began its gentle prelude, and my stomach twisted into knots.
"You look beautiful, dear." Josephine appeared beside me, her silver hair pinned in an elegant chignon. She wore a pale blue dress that brought out her eyes, and for the first time since I'd known her, she looked genuinely happy.
I smoothed the silk of my dress, a simple A-line with cap sleeves that Josephine had helped me pick out. Nothing too fancy. Nothing that screamed look at me. Just clean lines and ivory silk that made me feel like myself.
"I can't believe this is happening," I whispered.
"Believe it." Josephine took my hands in hers. Her fingers were warm and steady. "You deserve this happiness, Imogen. You've earned every moment of it."
