"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY, ELARA CELESTINE ZULUETA!" I yelled into the void, blanket dramatically thrown off, as if the fabric betrayed me by not whispering congrats, queen the moment I opened my eyes.
I sat up in bed, hair looking like a bird had applied for a permanent residency visa there. My face? Swollen. My eyes? Puffy. My brain? Still loading.
And then it hit me.
Not the reality.
Not the magnitude of this life-changing moment.
No, no, no. It was the horrifying realization that I HAD SLEPT WITH A PIMPLE PATCH ON AND NOW IT'S MISSING.
"OH MY GOSH WHERE IS IT—"
I found it. On my fiancé pillow.
Sorry, husband-to-be. Ew. Did that just make me blush? Ew again. Shut up, Elara.
Anyway, Cairo wasn't beside me. Which is good, I reminded myself, because we weren't supposed to see each other today until i walk down the aisle. Classic rule.
I don't know who made it up—probably someone bored with too much lace and candle budget—but i was sticking to it. Even if i low-key wanted to FaceTime him just to see if he was more stressed than me.
Spoiler alert: he wasn't.
That man could be entering a lion's cage or doing surgery in space and he'd still be calm.
Meanwhile, I was one eyelash away from having a breakdown because I couldn't find my emergency lip gloss.
"ARI!!!"
My gay best friend barged in within 0.3 seconds of hearing his name. "Yes, your chaotic highness?"
I flung a silk robe dramatically over my bridal lingerie like i was auditioning for a telenovela called "Ang Babaeng May Panic Attack sa Lip Gloss."
"I can't find the MAC lip oil! The one I saved specifically for today! The one labeled 'Do Not Use, Wedding Day Only, Touch and You Die'!"
Ari didn't even blink. He just pointed at the vanity. "You mean the one with the 'Touch and You Die' sticker? The one you already used yesterday when you thought Cairo was looking extra hot opening a jar of peanut butter?"
"...okay, maybe yes."
"Girl."
"I panicked! His forearms were veiny! The lighting was romantic! Peanut butter was in the air!"
He gave me the look. The one that said I love you but I'm judging you heavily.
Then came the first knock of the day.
"Miss Elara, your glam team is here," came a soft voice from outside.
"LET THE TRANSFORMATION BEGIN," I screamed, spinning around in my robe like a chaotic Disney princess on caffeine.
—
Three hours later, I had ten bobby pins, seventeen brushes, a whole team of people poking my face, and zero concept of time.
The glam team was working overtime.
There were rollers on my head, under-eye patches on my face, and someone was spraying something that smelled like unicorn sweat and money. I approved.
"Do you want a natural look or full glam?" asked my makeup artist, brushing my brows.
"Baby, I'm marrying a race car driver. I want lashes so dramatic they cancel my enemies."
She smiled. "Say less."
Meanwhile, Ari and Kenneth were helping coordinate everything. "The flowers are here," Kenneth said. "Bouquet looks amazing. You're gonna cry."
"I'M ALREADY CRYING AND I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN IT."
I don't know if it was the caffeine, the nerves, or the tiny realization that my life was about to change, but i started pacing. Like, literally pacing in white fluffy slippers while sipping coconut water from a wine glass. Because I'm a bride.
Then my phone pinged.
Cairo💛: Don't cry yet. You'll mess up your mascara.
Oh. My. Gosh.
"HOW DID HE KNOW I WAS CRYING?!" I screamed at the ceiling.
"Because you're predictable," Ari muttered while lighting a lavender candle.
I wiped my eyes and texted back with trembling thumbs:
Me: I'm not crying. You're crying. Also, can i see you now or is that bad luck or something?
Cairo💛: Nope. I'll see you when you walk down the aisle. But imagine me kissing your forehead right now.
UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
What kind of Nicholas Sparks man is this?? I'm emotionally unprepared.
"Okay, I take it back," I said, flopping dramatically on the couch. "We are soulmates. I'll never doubt the stars again."
"You say that every time he texts you 'good morning,'" Ari replied.
"BECAUSE IT'S CUTE."
—
Eventually, it was time to get dressed.
I stepped into my wedding gown like i was stepping into battle. A battle made of tulle, crystals, and the kind of couture that would make angels weep.
It was perfect.
The kind of gown that whispers, yes, she's dramatic, but in a lovable way.
And when i saw myself in the mirror—full glam, veil, gloves, heels that screamed ELARA HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING—I froze.
For the first time that morning, I was silent.
Because holy crap. I was beautiful.
Not in a magazine cover kind of way. Not in a filtered selfie with perfect lighting kind of way.
But in a this is me, in love, about to change my last name, and i've never felt more myself kind of way.
"Elara," Ari whispered, getting misty-eyed. "You look..."
"I KNOW," I sobbed. "IT'S GIVING MRS. RACE CAR DRIVER."
We all laughed. And cried. And then laughed again because I almost smudged my highlighter.
—
Thirty minutes before the ceremony, I got one more text.
Cairo💛: I'll be waiting at the altar. Don't trip. But if you do, you'll still look hot.
STOPPPP.
I turned to Ari. "Okay. Let's go ruin some single people's self-esteem."
He raised his glass of non-alcoholic champagne. "To the most chaotic bride the Philippines has ever seen."
"To me," I said, lifting my invisible crown.
-
I was holding my bouquet in one hand, my shoe in the other, and my patience… missing.
I couldn't even stress about my own vows because my glam team was fighting over whether to give me a soft curl or full blowout. I ended up with both. Left side beach waves, right side Victoria's Secret runway.
Iconic? Maybe. Symmetrical? Not at all.
"Ma'am Elara," my coordinator peeked in nervously. "They're ready for you."
"I'm not ready for them, Miss Girl!" I yelled back while trying to fix my eyelash that somehow detached mid-lipgloss. "Do i look like a woman about to get married or a contestant sa Drag Race na wala pang talent number?!"
But deep down… oh my god. I was shaking.
I was gonna walk down that aisle and become Mrs. Cairo Lazarré.
Like—WHAT?!
Breathe in… 1, 2… hyperventilate.
Kenneth handed me a pack of mints and whispered, "Do you wanna run away for like five minutes and scream into a decorative plant?"
I took the mints, chewed aggressively, and nodded. "Lead me to the nearest foliage."
But before i could make my grand escape, the music started playing.
THE MUSIC.
THE WEDDING MARCH.
I WAS BEING SUMMONED BY VIOLINS.
Oh no.
Oh hell no.
Oh dear God, this is really happening.
"Walk. Like. A. Queen." Ari fanned me with his fan that literally said "YAAAS." "You are THE moment."
I tried. I really tried.
But you know what i didn't practice?
Walking in 6-inch heels down a glass aisle sprinkled with rose petals while 300 people stared at me, including a tita from Bacolod who loudly whispered, "Grabe 'no, Elara matured na rin pala kahit papaano."
I STUMBLED.
Like, not a full-on face plant. But enough to make the petals scatter like a cheesy K-drama flashback montage.
I wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole… or at least teleport me to the buffet area.
But then—
I looked up.
And there he was.
Cairo.
In a tux. Looking like a Pinterest board come to life. Smiling like i wasn't a walking blooper reel. His eyes softened like… like he'd waited his whole life for this moment.
Okay wait. Now i was crying. No, actually bawling. Like Kim Kardashian ugly cry but in couture.
"OHMYGOD stop crying," I muttered under my breath. "You spent two hours on this base, Elara. Don't you dare ruin it."
I made it to the altar. Cairo took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was always meant to be there.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"No," I sniffled. "I almost died on my way to you."
He grinned. "Well. Good thing you didn't."
I giggled. My nose sniffed. My lip gloss stuck to my veil. But whatever. I was here.
Then came the vows.
Cairo went first.
AND GUESS WHAT?
He memorized his.
LIKE WHO TOLD HIM TO BE A POET ALL OF A SUDDEN???
"I used to think racing was the biggest thrill of my life," he said, voice steady, eyes on me. "But then you came… and suddenly, no finish line mattered more than the moment i knew i wanted to grow old with you."
And I—
I just stood there like a sobbing roast chicken.
Now it was my turn.
My vow was written in pink glitter pen on the back of a receipt from 7-Eleven. Classy.
"Hi," I began, which made people laugh. "I practiced this in the mirror… then forgot everything when i saw you just now. So, um, here's what i remember…"
"I used to think i was too much. Too loud. Too dramatic. Too sparkly. Like glitter in a serious world."
Ari was already crying. Kenneth was dabbing his eyes with a tissue shaped like a swan.
"But then you showed me that i didn't have to shrink myself. That i could be… Elara. Full Elara. And someone would still choose me, love me, stay."
I smiled at Cairo through my tears. "So… thank you. For being my safe space, my soft pillow, my ultimate snack, and the reason i didn't settle for someone boring."
People laughed. Cairo mouthed snack?
"Yes. Snack. You're hot. Deal with it."
And just like that—
We were pronounced husband and wife.
The crowd cheered. Fireworks exploded (metaphorically and literally—Ari may have paid someone under the table for surprise sparkles). And Cairo dipped me for the kiss like he was in a telenovela.
And my veil got stuck to his boutonniere. Of coursed.
We kissed anyway.
Everyone clapped.
My parents.
Even the tita from Bacolod.
AND I WAS MARRIED.
ME. ELARA. WIFE. LEGAL. SEALED. DELIVERED. OWNED BY LOVE.
Was the day perfect?
No.
My heel snapped during the recessional, someone spilled juice on my gown, and my ring nearly flew into the fountain when I got too excited while throwing rice.
But it was ours.
Messy, chaotic, laugh-out-loud, heart-full… ours.
And honestly?
I wouldn't have it any other way.
And that's how it ends.
Not with a bang.
Not with a dramatic exit.
But with a soft moment under the stars. Two people, too chaotic for logic, too full of love to care.
I wasn't just a bride.
I wasn't just a spectacle.
I was… his.
And he was mine.
I AM ELARA CELESTINE ZULUETA-LAZARRÉ.