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Chapter 138 – Arya's POV
I never imagined I'd feel this kind of peace again. The kind that settles into your chest like sunlight, warming all the broken places you thought would stay cracked forever.
Today was my wedding day.
And for the first time in so long, I didn't feel like someone waiting for something to go wrong. I wasn't holding my breath, bracing for heartache or disappointment. I was just… happy.
Purely, unapologetically, deeply happy.
I stood in front of the tall mirror, dressed in white — not just any white dress, but the one. The one I'd secretly imagined as a girl, tucked deep into daydreams I never thought would come true. Soft lace, a delicate sweetheart neckline, sheer sleeves that wrapped around my arms like whispers. The bodice fit perfectly, hugging my waist before flowing down into layers of silk that shimmered with every breath I took.
My hair was swept up loosely, with a few soft strands brushing my cheekbones. A tiny flower pin — one Damon picked out himself — sat tucked just above my ear. Hope and Liam had helped him choose it. They'd said it reminded them of me.
I smiled at my reflection. For once, I didn't just look beautiful — I felt beautiful.
And more than that… I felt loved.
There was a knock at the door. A soft one.
"Come in," I called gently.
Amara peeked her head in first, beaming. "Oh my God," she breathed, stepping inside fully. "Arya, you look like something out of a dream."
I laughed nervously. "You think?"
"I know," she said, walking over to adjust my veil. "Damon's going to lose it when he sees you."
The mention of his name sent a warm flutter through me.
It had been two months since he proposed — not the first time, not the rushed one on paper when everything was messy — but this time, the real one. On his knees, under the stars, with the softest words and the most sincere eyes I'd ever seen.
"I want to do it right," he'd said. "I want the world to see me choose you, not out of guilt or obligation, but because I love you so deeply I'd choose you again and again. In every lifetime."
I'd said yes before he finished speaking.
And now, here we were.
"Is Hope ready?" I asked.
Amara laughed. "She's already wearing her tiny flower crown. Liam too — although he keeps asking when he gets to eat cake."
I giggled softly. "That sounds like him."
There was another knock. This time, it was deeper. Slower.
"Ten minutes," came the wedding planner's voice. "You ready, bride?"
Amara gave me one last look. "This is it."
I nodded, nerves and joy tangled in my chest. "Yeah. This is it."
She stepped out, and for a moment, I was alone again.
I looked at myself once more, this time not just as a woman getting married, but as a woman who had survived. I had walked through betrayal, heartbreak, single motherhood, loneliness… and still found a way to stand here today — not broken, but rebuilt.
Damon and I had come so far.
He wasn't perfect. Neither was I.
But somehow, our imperfections had aligned into something whole.
The music started outside — soft piano chords floating in from the garden.
I picked up my bouquet, my hands trembling just a little. And then the door opened again.
It was Liam.
"Mom," he whispered, eyes wide as he took me in. "You look like a princess."
My heart nearly burst. I crouched down, brushing his hair back.
"Thank you, baby," I said. "And you look like a prince."
He grinned proudly in his little black suit. "Can I walk with you?"
Tears pricked my eyes. "I'd love that."
So, hand in hand, I walked with my son down the path of white rose petals, toward the man waiting at the altar with his heart in his eyes.
The garden had been transformed — twinkling fairy lights overhead, guests seated beneath the afternoon sun, and soft blooms in every color I loved. Hope sat in Amara's arms, cooing softly, her tiny white dress matching mine.
But all I could see was Damon.
He stood tall in a sleek black tux, his dark hair slightly tousled, and his eyes…
His eyes looked like they were seeing a miracle.
When I reached him, Liam let go of my hand and stepped aside proudly like we'd rehearsed. Damon reached for me, his fingers brushing mine as I stepped into place.
"Hi," he whispered, voice cracking slightly.
"Hi," I smiled back.
The vows were a blur. Not because they weren't heartfelt — but because my heart was pounding too loud to catch every word. But I remembered the way Damon's voice shook when he said:
"I married you once because I was afraid to lose you. Today, I marry you again — because I want to spend the rest of my life earning you."
I couldn't stop the tears.
Neither could he.
When the officiant said, "You may now kiss your bride," Damon didn't hesitate. He pulled me in like the whole world was built just for that moment. And maybe it was.
As the guests clapped and the music swelled, I held onto him tighter.
This time, we weren't rushing. We weren't broken.
We were finally, fully, ours.
And I would remember this day for the rest of my life.