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Aella stood with them, her grip tightening slightly around the bouquet.

Her mother stepped in front of her, hands coming up to cup her face for a brief moment. “Just continue putting one foot in front of the other,” she said softly. “We’ll be waiting for you at the end.”

Her sister leaned in next, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Don’t cry before you get down the aisle,” she murmured, smiling. “Save that for when you see him.”

“Ugh, get out,” Aella playfully fussed.

They moved toward the door, pausing only long enough for one last look at her before stepping out into the corridor. For a few seconds, it was quiet again. Then there was another knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called, knowing it could only be her father.

Severo stepped inside, his expression shifting the moment his eyes landed on her. “Elle…”

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whined. “I’m going to start crying before I make it down the aisle.”

“Hell, you and I both,” he chuckled. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart. I can’t believe my baby is all grown up and getting married.”

“I know,” she placed her bouquet on the table, wringing her hands as she stood, her eyes on the ground. “What if I’m not a good wife? I’m terrified that I’m going to screw this up.”

“You’re not going to screw anything up, Elle. Marriage comes with its ups and downs, but as long as you two keep a mutual respect and keep each other first, you’ll be fine.”

She glanced back up. “How can you be so calm? Aren’t you worried?”

He met her eyes. “About you? No. I know what I was doing when I chose Cassius for you.”

Aella held his gaze for a second, then nodded.

Her father held out his arm, wearing a warm smile. “Come on. You ready to do this?”

Retrieving her flower from the vanity, Aella slipped her arm through his, allowing his presence to steady her.

“All you have to do is walk, Elle. Block out anything else,” he said.

She nodded again. “Okay.”

He gave her a small look. “You’ve got this. And I’ve got you,” Severo assured her, kissing her temple before leading her to the door.

Aella’s fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed the lace of her gown, the delicate ivory fabric catching the afternoon sun streaming through the cathedral’s tall stained-glass windows. The scent of roses and old cedar filled the air as she clung to her father’s arm. Every guest’s eyes were on her, though she barely registered them. She could only see Cassius.

He stood at the altar, impeccable in his tailored black suit, a thin gold chain glinting at his collarbone, his dark eyes scanning the room until they found hers. Even from this distance, she felt the weight of his gaze, heavy with something unsaid, something intimate that no one else could touch. Her heart twisted and turned, a mix of pride and love.

Suddenly, every fear she had melted away as though it had never been there in the first place. With him was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Breathe, nigga,” Mars pushed Cassius’ shoulder. “You can’t get married if you’re dead. And killing yourself by refusing to breathe is a sucka ass way to go out.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, the only person dying is you,” he hissed, trying to keep himself together. To anyone watching, he was sure he appeared composed, but it was taking more than Cassius would admit to keep his nerves steady as the room awaited Aella’s arrival.

His stomach dropped when the music shifted to announce her arrival. The low murmur of voices faded, and the doors creaked open in a way that made his anxiety spike. Then, there she was.

Aella stood at the entrance, her arm looped through her father’s.

For a second, Cassius didn’t register anything else. Not the guests, not the setting, not the quiet swell of the music filling the space. Just her. He had seen her before, countless times, in settings far less formal than this one. He knew the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence that rarely needed to announce itself, and the way her presence filled a space with little effort.

But this was different in a way he hadn’t quite prepared for. It wasn’t just the gown, the veil, or the bouquet in her hands.

It was her.

Each step closed the distance between them, and with it came a quiet realization that settled deeper in his chest the longer he watched her.