The morning of Jenna's wedding tasted like warm sunlight and sweet memories— Lilies bloomed along with roses. Wedding bells rang in the hearts of everyone gathered.
One of those rare days the world behaved itself long enough to pretend it wasn't cruel.
Jenna's merchant house, small and stubbornly nostalgic, buzzed with a quiet excitement. Not the loud, sprawling kind that chokes people. The tender kind that makes rooms feel warm.
It was a tiny wedding. Immediate family, no strangers, no extra chairs or guests. Just the people who had bled, healed, broken, and rebuilt themselves alongside Jenna.
People who had gone through the storm and didn't pretend they were too strong to be unscathed. They had scars and it was what defined them.
Henri and Mabel were already settled. Mabel held their chubby, half-asleep daughter. Henri looked entirely too proud for a man who had barely slept, but fatherhood had done something strange to him.
