Jasper's POV
The morning of our wedding felt nothing like I thought it would. I had pictured nerves, shaky hands, maybe even a restless stomach, but instead I woke up calm, too calm. Maybe it was because I had spent so many nights imagining this day that when it finally came, my heart had settled into a strange kind of peace.
The venue was already buzzing by the time I got there. We chose a garden just outside the city, a place Belle had once said reminded her of something out of a dream. Rows of wooden chairs were lined neatly on each side of the aisle, their ends tied with white ribbons and small bunches of pale roses. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the kind that grew wild along the edges of the lawn. A white arch stood at the front, wrapped with ivy and flowers, simple yet beautiful just like Belle.
The sky was clear, a soft blue stretched wide, the sun sitting just right, not too harsh, not too dim. It felt as if even the weather knew what kind of day this was.
