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Today.
Outside, snow drifted across the conservatory roof, softening Blackwood Hall beneath a blanket of white. The gardens had disappeared beneath the snowfall overnight, leaving only the dark outlines of trees and the warm glow of light spilling from the windows above. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear movement.
Today.
The thought settled over me differently this time. Not with nerves, but with gratitude. The door flew open without waiting for my answer.
Charlotte backed into the apartment first, wrestling three garment bags through the doorway before reaching back for the cardboard tray balancing coffee.
“I brought coffee,” she declared. “Also, I think someone has kidnapped the florist because there are six people downstairs panicking about white roses.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. “I’ve been awake for thirty seconds.”
“I know. You’re already behind.” She handed me a cup. “As your maid of honor, it is my responsibility to make sure you remain on schedule.”
“I thought that was Priya’s job.”
As soon as I said it, Priya was in the doorway. “Did someone ask for me?”
Charlotte and I laughed.
Priya held up the box. “I have emergency sewing supplies.”
“Why?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know.” All three of us laughed.
My apartment filled with music and the controlled chaos of getting ready. Charlotte somehow misplaced one shoe while holding both of them.
Mateo arrived sometime later in a black tuxedo, looking so handsome that all three of us stopped what we were doing.
“Look at you,” I said.
He grinned and straightened his jacket. “I clean up well.”
Halfway through having my hair pinned into place, Winston wandered through the open bedroom door as though he had been invited. He crossed the room with complete confidence, ignored everyone else entirely, and rested his head in my lap.
“Here he is, the King of Blackwood Hall,” Charlotte announced.
I looked around my apartment and realized something that would have been impossible a year earlier. I wasn’t getting ready for a wedding.
I was getting ready with my family.
* * *
The apartment gradually grew quieter as people drifted downstairs one by one.
Soon I was alone. Elsewhere, Blackwood Hall was filling with the guests we had selected carefully. Residents who had become family. Researchers who had become friends. Board members who watched Aurora grow into something real. Architects who had spent decades building alongside Alexander.
People whose lives had woven together within these walls until it never felt like an institution at all.
A gentle knock broke the silence.
“Emilia?” Charlotte’s voice came softly. “It’s almost time.”
“One moment.”
I turned back toward the mirror. The woman staring back at me wore ivory silk that seemed to float rather than fall. The clean lines of the gown drew the eye not to ornament but to proportion. A square neckline framed my collarbone with quiet elegance, while the fitted bodice gave way to a softly flowing skirt that moved with the smallest shift of my weight, revealing a glimpse of my leg whenever the fabric parted. The sleeves, fashioned from sheer chiffon, caught the morning light like they had been made from it, their delicate volume gathered into slender cuffs at my wrists.
