AURORA'S POV:
There was still glitter in my hair.
From the proposal.
From the lights.
From the moment the world tilted and i forgot how to breathe.
I touched the ring again, slowly, carefully as if it might vanish if i held it too tightly.
Was this real?
I stood barefoot on the cold tile of Lance's kitchen, his hoodie draped over my nightgown.
He was still asleep upstairs, curled up like he always did after a long day, one arm thrown over the empty space i left behind in bed.
I needed to breathe.
To walk around.
To let it settle.
Because i said yes.
I said yes to Lance Montenegro. To the man who saw me through the worst year of my life. To the man who kissed my scars, who held me when i broke, who never, never asked me to be anyone else but Aurora.
I wasn't supposed to end up here.
I wasn't supposed to survive, much less dream about silk gowns and aisle songs.
But i did.
And now, I was someone's fiancée.
His fiancée.
God.
My knees gave out, and i slid down to the floor, back against the fridge, hands shaking.
It wasn't fear, not exactly. More like... awe. Gratitude.
Something too big for my chest.
I used to look at weddings with bitterness, like they were promises made by people who didn't know pain yet. But now?
Now i looked at it as a battlefield we earned our way through.
When Lance came downstairs, hair a mess, eyes still soft from sleep, I was still sitting there on the floor.
He froze. "Hey. What's wrong?"
I shook my head. "Nothing's wrong."
He moved fast, crouched in front of me, hands on my face. "Talk to me."
"I just..." I bit my lip. "I think this is the first time i realized it's really happening."
A pause. His thumb brushed my cheek.
"Do you want it to happen?"
"Yes," I said immediately, maybe too fast. "Yes. I want to marry you."
Relief bloomed in his face. "Then we'll take it slow. We'll plan it however you want. No pressure."
I smiled. "I think i just need coffee."
He laughed, standing and offering me a hand. "Coffee it is, future Mrs. Montenegro."
God.
That name.
-
The next week was chaos, but the beautiful kind.
We told Nico first. He screamed so loud the neighbors knocked on the door.
Then Selena. She immediately started drawing up color palettes for the wedding, even though we hadn't picked a date yet. "Classic or modern?" she asked. "Church or garden? Theme or no theme? Wait—what about the dress?!"
I laughed so hard i cried.
Then there were meetings.
Florists. Venues. Dress designers. Cake tastings.
I never imagined i'd be one of those women who cared about buttercream versus fondant, but there i was, chewing quietly while Lance made exaggerated faces beside me to make me laugh.
And through it all, I kept staring at the ring.
Still not used to it.
Still checking if it was real.
One night, about a week into planning, I found myself alone again in the kitchen.
This time not out of disbelief but reflection.
I pulled out a journal i hadn't opened since therapy began. It was still filled with messy handwriting and half-drawn hearts that meant nothing then.
But now... I turned to a fresh page.
Dear Me,
You survived.
You healed enough to love. To trust again. And tomorrow, you get to try on your first wedding dress.
I paused.
You're doing okay.
The dress shop was tucked in the quiet part of BGC, away from the crowds. Selena came with me, of course, and so did Lance's cousine, Micah, who i'd grown surprisingly close to over the past few months.
"I'm nervous," I whispered as we stepped inside.
Selena rolled her eyes. "You were literally held as one of the suspect and didn't flinch. And now you're nervous about lace?"
"I don't know," I muttered. "It just feels... permanent."
"It is," Micah said, linking arms with me. "But so are all the good things that come with it."
The first dress i tried on was too sparkly. The second too plain.
But the third—oh.
It wasn't white, but a soft ivory that made my skin glow.
The fabric was light, the neckline simple, and when i stepped out into the mirror-lined space, everything went quiet.
Selena's hand flew to her mouth. Micah grinned like she knew something i didn't.
"You look like you," Selena whispered. "Not a princess. Not a celebrity. Just... Aurora."
I stared at my reflection.
And for the first time in a long, long while, I didn't see the girl who cried in a courtroom. Or the woman who trembled in a hospital bed.
I saw someone standing taller.
Someone who was finally ready.
That night, Lance came home carrying takeout and a bouquet of fresh tulips.
"Why tulips?" I asked, pulling the petals to my nose.
He shrugged. "They remind me of spring. New beginnings."
I kissed him, soft and slow. "I found the dress."
"You did?"
I nodded. "But you can't see it until the wedding."
He grinned. "Wouldn't dare."
We sat on the couch, tangled together like we always did, eating from paper containers and talking about guest lists.
At one point, he asked, "Do you want a big wedding?"
I thought about it. The noise. The pressure. The cameras.
"No," I said honestly. "I want something intimate. Safe. Just people we love."
He smiled. "Then that's what we'll do."
And just like that, I started to believe this life, this future was mine to have.
No more running.
No more doubting.
Just love.
And finally... peace.