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Yet, none of it matters. My hands are clammy, my heart is racing, and all I do after each courteous smile is look up towards the banister, waiting for her. Soon, she will be my fiancé, declared to all.
The murmur of the gathered guests fades away as I catch sight of her. Tatiana appears at the top of the stairs, a vision in ivory French lace. The dress clings to her curves as she descends, cinched at the waist to accentuate her hourglass figure. I'm transfixed, unable to tear my gaze away.
She glides down the stairs with effortless grace, her fingers tapping the railing ever so gently. She looks at me and smiles before her eyes flutter to the ground, and I see her blush. I drink in every detail - her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, tendrils framing her face.
Diamond earrings sparkle at her ears. The stunning necklace at her throat catches the light.
I reach out, and Tatiana places her hand in mine while descending the last few steps.
As she reaches the bottom, I pull her into my arms. Her body melts against mine. Her growing belly was only evident to me. I cup her face in my hands, losing myself for a moment in her dark, soulful eyes. Then I kiss her gently.
I smile against Tatiana's lips, then reluctantly pull back to gaze at her flushed face. The festive atmosphere bubbles over as our friends and family surge forward to offer their congratulations.
"It's about time!" Cristiano grins broadly, pounding me on the back.
Nonna Lucia embraces Tatiana, tears of joy glistening on her wrinkled cheeks. "I'm so happy for you both," she says.
As we greet more guests, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. Tatiana stands radiantly by my side, more stunning than I could ever have imagined her on our engagement day.
I'm amazed that this incredible, captivating woman has agreed to be my wife. Our path so far hasn’t been easy, but my love and commitment to Tatiana is unwavering. We've weathered some storms together and have emerged stronger.
Now, on the cusp of our future, I'm even more certain that this mother of my child-to-be is my destiny.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, "Ti amerò fino al mio ultimo respiro, cara mia," – I will love you until my last breath, my darling. She smiles radiantly, her eyes brimming with joyful tears, as she leans in for a passionate kiss. The crowd erupts like wildfire, cheering for more.
I'm basking in the glow of this joyous occasion when I spot Martin making his way through the crowd. My body tenses instinctively, old habits resurfacing.
But Martin's face holds no malice as he approaches. Only sincerity shines in his eyes.
"Philippe," he says, extending his hand. "I want to apologize for the misunderstandings between us. I realize now I misjudged your intentions towards Tatiana."
He glances at her and inclines his head respectfully. "You're a lucky man. Tatiana is a wonderful woman."
I grasp Martin's hand firmly. "The past is behind us," I reply. "What matters now is that we work together. We face challenges ahead that will require our collaboration and focus on bringing Tatiana to the forefront of the opera. You are her manager, after all."
Martin nods and gives me a small smile. "You're right. Thank you for giving me another chance." Our handshake is an expression of forgiveness.
As Martin turns and disappears back into the crowd, I take Tatiana’s hand and raise it gently to my lips. I turn to her, pulling her close. As our lips meet, the taste of her kiss sweeter than anywine, I send up a prayer of thanks. Our guests applaud around us, raising their glasses in salute.
"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on," I murmur.
A rosy blush stains her cheeks. I know at this moment I am the luckiest man alive. Fate brought this remarkable woman into my life. I vow to honor and protect her all of my days. She is everything to me - my heart, my home.
The announcement for the rings to be exchanged is up next. The joyful chatter in the hall has given way to an expectant atmosphere. My heart is pounding in my ears.
There is a deafening sound, like a bomb exploding in a confined space. Screams and gasps echo off the walls as panic erupts amongst the guests. For a second, I am disorientated.
Gunshots echo through the air, and more people scream. "Tatiana," I shout out, trying to shield her. A group of guests, trying to run for safety, forced us to separate. I try reaching out for her, our fingers slipping, and then she’s pulled in the other direction.
With all my might, I press against the sea of bodies, desperately following Tatiana’s white dress amid the panicked crowd. I notice more men pouring into the hall, weapons drawn. My men are fighting back.
And then, she’s gone.
I freeze, and my heart pounds in my chest. Each scream that pierces the air sends a chill down my spine. I hear the panic in my voice as I call out Tatiana's name again. White. There.
I gasp. Searing pain explodes through my shoulder as a bullet slams into me. I stagger, clutching the wound. Hot and slick blood pours over my fingers—the room tilts.
I blink fiercely, struggling to stay on my feet. Chaos rages around me. You have to find Tatiana, get her to safety: my vision blurs, head spinning.
