Arabella moved slowly through the space, as if afraid the moment might break if she rushed it. Soft lights hung from every corner, delicate strands glowing like captured stars. Little lamps lined the walkway, their warm light spilling onto the floor and casting gentle shadows that danced as she passed.
She touched the edge of a table, fingers brushing over flowers she had chosen herself, each one placed with care. The air smelled faintly of candles and fresh petals. Everywhere she looked was a piece of her—months of planning, quiet hopes, small compromises, all woven into one beautiful setting.
