The soft glow of dawn was just beginning to peek through the curtains of Emily Whitmore's bedchamber at Whitmore Manor. The young woman stirred in her sleep, her subconscious weaving a tapestry of desires and hopes, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. She drifted deeper into her dream, and the night passed and reached early morning.
Emily's eyes fluttered open to the gentle sound of birdsong outside her window. For a moment, she lay still, letting the realization wash over her. Today was the day. Her wedding day. A mixture of excitement and nerves fluttered in her stomach as she sat up, pushing back the luxurious silk sheets.
As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," Emily called, her voice still husky with sleep.
The door opened to reveal Sarah, Emily's older sister and maid of honour, already dressed in a flowing gown of pale blue. "Good morning, bride-to-be," Sarah said with a warm smile. "Are you ready for your big day?"
