It made Dora a little sad, imagining the wedding she had once thought she would have—something small, real, and filled with warmth—only to have something completely different. The ceremony felt like a distant echo of that dream, one she could no longer recognize.
Vows were said, each word sounding rehearsed and hollow, even as Dora glanced around at the audience. All she saw were cold, apathetic expressions. Her father looked tired, her stepmother detached, her stepbrother Luca present only out of obligation. Even the guests seemed to be there for appearances, their polite smiles barely masking boredom or envy.
Time passed much more slowly than she would have liked. The priest's voice droned on, solemn and calm, echoing off the high ceiling of the church as though stretching the moment just to test her patience. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she heard the words she had been so desperately waiting for.
