HERMIONE
The world outside is quiet — for once. Not because the city has slowed, but because my heart has taken over everything.
Today… is my wedding day.
A soft breeze whispers through the open window of my bridal suite. Paris is golden in the morning light, the Seine sparkling in the distance, and the Eiffel Tower peeking through the horizon like it knows it's playing background to something far more magical.
I'm surrounded by silk, champagne, laughter, and the people who never let me fall. Lia hums softly as she zips up my gown, her hands steady despite the tears in her eyes.
"You're glowing," she whispers.
Isabelle adjusts my veil from behind, her reflection misty in the mirror. "You're everything he ever dreamed of."
Claire grins as she finishes pinning the final rose-gold clip in my hair. "Let the Voss dynasty begin."
We laugh through our nerves and happy tears. And then suddenly, we're quiet. The kind of quiet that says this is real now. I take one last breath before stepping out onto the soft marble hallway where my grandfather waits.
He looks up.
And I swear his eyes have never looked prouder.
"My baby girl," he says thickly, offering his arm. "Let's go change your name."
The venue is nothing short of breathtaking. A palace-style château outside Paris, filled with cascading red roses, gold-trimmed chairs, crystal chandeliers suspended from an open-glass ceiling.
Press from around the world gathered beyond the gates, flashbulbs sparkling like stars. The ceremony is private — guarded, sacred — but everyone wants to see. Because this isn't just a wedding.
It's a story.
Our story.
Dylan stands at the altar in a custom-tailored tux, black with subtle gold embroidery, his eyes locked on me the second I appear.
The music fades.
It's just us.
Just him.
The man I fell for in silence and shadows and flame.
And now I'm walking straight into forever.
I reach him. He takes both my hands, breathless.
"You're late," he whispers with a teasing smile.
"You'll survive," I murmur back.
"I won't survive you."
We say our vows in front of everyone who matters — my friends, my grandparents, his parents… and the ghosts of those who couldn't make it but shaped us anyway.
"I never believed in fate," Dylan says during his vows, "until I met the one woman the universe made it impossible to avoid."
I cry through mine. I tell him how he made me feel seen. Whole. Unbreakable. Even when I was shattered.
The kiss is everything. Gentle, deep, triumphant. A crown to seal the promise.
And then—cheers. Music. Applause.
And laughter.
Because of course Claire yells, "Finally!"
The reception is pure luxury. Glass tent lit with fairy lights, grand piano floating notes through the air, tables lined with white orchids and candlelight. Guests sip vintage champagne, eat from gold-rimmed plates, and take pictures beside a ten-tier cake.
He gives me a car.
A vintage Rolls-Royce Phantom, wrapped in red ribbon, parked in front of the venue with "VALE-VOSS" on the license plate.
He gives me designer shoes, and bags, and a diamond bracelet that once belonged to his grandmother.
But all of it pales next to the way he looks at me.
Like I'm the miracle he's waited his whole life for.
Later that night, Dylan and I sneak away, barefoot and giddy, still dressed in our wedding attire, running through the moonlit garden behind the château.
"I'll never get tired of calling you my wife," he says, catching my wrist and pulling me into him.
"I'll never get tired of being yours," I whisper.
We kiss under the stars.
And in that moment, I know…
This isn't the end of the story.
It's the beginning of everything.