The air in the small courtroom smelled faintly of old wood and polished shoes. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, hitting the marble floor in slanted strips, but it did nothing to warm me.
I sat rigid in the chair beside him, hands folded neatly in my lap.
My dress, pristine, white, impossibly perfect, felt heavier than it should have, as if the fabric itself were trying to remind me of all the expectations tied around my neck.
Calix Lazaro leaned back, one elbow resting casually on the armrest, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm. His smile, careless and infuriating, never wavered, not even as the judge cleared his throat.
I didn't look at him.
I didn't want to.
"You may now kiss the bride," the judge said.
The words hovered in the air like smoke, and for a moment, I considered standing up and walking out.
But I didn't.
Calix leaned toward me anyway, smirking, and whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "Finally, official. Guess I can't flirt with you anymore… or can I?"
I stared straight ahead.
My lips didn't move.
My expression didn't betray anything.
I didn't even flinch.
He laughed softly, a sound so annoyingly human, and nudged my shoulder. "You know, Aurora… you look ridiculously beautiful today. Don't hide it behind that ice queen face."
Ice queen.
The term should have stung.
It didn't.
I simply stayed still, a statue among living things, letting him talk because ignoring him would have required energy I didn't care to spend.
The judge coughed again, clearing his throat for the second time.
Calix straightened, finally obeying protocol, and offered me his hand.
I accepted it with the faintest touch, our fingers barely brushing.
In the quiet of that courtroom, with witnesses staring and cameras of our family flashing from phones, I realized something: this marriage, our marriage was exactly what I expected.
Cold.
Unnecessary.
A transaction dressed in white.
But even as my chest remained still and my heart refused to rise, I felt the faintest tremor, a tiny, unwelcome ripple of curiosity about the man who sat beside me, so reckless, so impossibly alive, and so very far from everything I was.
And for the first time, I wondered if a beautiful mistake could really become something worth holding onto.