I frown and look away.
The guests are all seated, forming a sea of bright colors and traditional tartans. My mother sits in the front row, as stoic as ever, though there’s an unusual light in her eyes. My grandmother, radiant in lavender, appears to be monitoring every detail.
The music changes, signaling the start of the ceremony. The sound of bagpipes fills the air. My heart picks up its pace. It’s absurd to be this nervous for an arranged marriage, I tell myself. And yet, my palms are damp and my throat dry.
Keira walks down the aisle first, elegant in her cream bridesmaid dress. She gives me an encouraging wink before taking her place opposite, near Savannah.
Then the music shifts again, and all the guests rise.
And that’s when I see her.
Jane.
She walks down the aisle on her mother’s arm, with a confidence I find admirable. Her dress is stunning, hugging her figure perfectly before flaring slightly at the bottom. The sheer veil reveals her face, and I’m struck by her expression—a mix of nerves, wonder, and something I can’t quite name.
She is absolutely breathtaking.
Not just because of the dress or the flawless makeup, but because there’s something in the way she carries herself, the wayshe holds her head high despite her visible nerves, that reaches something deep inside me.
Our eyes meet, and everything else fades away. There’s no contract, no arrangement, no calculated plan.
There’s only Jane and me.
And for me… it’s no longer a performance.
When she reaches me and her escort places her hand in mine, I feel a connection settle between us—something far beyond the terms of our agreement.
— Hello, future Mrs. McGregor, I murmur.
— Hello, Mr. McGregor, she replies with a shy smile. Nice kilt. I’ll try to keep it in place this time.
Her comment breaks the solemnity, and I find myself laughing softly. That’s so Jane—using humor to ease tension, to make the extraordinary manageable.
The officiant begins the ceremony, but I barely hear a word. My focus is entirely on the woman in front of me, on her eyes reflecting a range of emotions I’ve never noticed so clearly before.
We exchange our vows—traditional words spoken by countless couples before us. But in her voice, in the way her fingers tighten slightly around mine when she says “for better or for worse,” I feel something real. Something that goes beyond our arrangement.
Or maybe it’s just what I want to hear.
The moment for the rings arrives. We chose simple, elegant bands that suddenly feel far more symbolic than mere props in our charade.
Ewan hands me Jane’s ring, and his knowing smirk seems to say, I told you so.
I take Jane’s left hand, noticing how slightly it trembles. Or maybe it’s mine. I slide the ring onto her finger, and somethingin that simple gesture feels like more than a contract being sealed.
Then she slips my ring onto my finger, her touch light as a feather—and yet it leaves a burning impression on my skin.
— By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife, the officiant declares. Callum McGregor, you may kiss your bride.
This is the moment we briefly discussed—but never rehearsed. A chaste, respectable kiss. Just enough to convince the audience without becoming too intimate.
I gently lift her veil, fully revealing her face. Her eyes meet mine, and I see a silent question there—a vulnerability I’ve never seen before.
I lean in, intending to give her a quick, appropriate kiss.
But the moment our lips meet, something shifts.
The kiss—meant to be a formality, a performance—deepens on its own. My hands find her waist, hers slide into my hair, and for a few endless seconds, we kiss as if we’re alone in the world. As if this marriage is anything but arranged.
