The days passed, ever slowly as if taunting her with the fact that her wedding day was around the corner, or perhaps the day when Draco would ultimately ruin her life for the second ti.
Whatever he seed to be brewing inside that dark devious mind of his would be the end of her. She tried to think beyond reason of whatever treacherous deed he seed to be harboring for her, but there was nothing she could think of, the enigmatic devil had her trapped in his mind gas.
After the visit to the white witch’s market, she had never caught sight of him again, his dark presence she always felt no longer lingered around her, it was now only a faint mory in her mind.
For a mont, everything seed normal within that ti, she felt less tensed and more relaxed, even though her instincts rang warning bells in her head.
He was like a predator giving his prey a short resting monts before hunting again, he was making her accumulate hopes that he had gotten bored with her, until he’d take her unaware and prepared.
She wanted to shove it at the back of her mind while she spent more ti with Damien, the more ti she spent with him, the more she realized she could never reciprocate his feelings back, they were just not star crossed lovers and her heart just never fluttered once, if she could she’d make it flutter, but it never did.
Thinking of Draco was a risk, but she couldn’t help it, especially when he failed to reveal even a fragnt of his presence after so days, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had already gotten bored of her and found a new toy or if he was rely taunting her with suspense in a bid to take her unaware with his next action.
She would have been more at ease if he had indeed gotten bored of her, but even if she hated to admit, she would have been utterly disappointed and angry. Although she knew the latter was worse and he was likely to ruin her wedding if he hadn’t gotten bored and was only a predator waiting for the right mont to attack, but was the wedding what she desired anyway?
One week fleeted very slowly, she always woke up with bated breath and an inauspicious cloud looming over her head as she counted the remaining seven days to her wedding.
anwhile, Malika on the other hand had been living so comfortably and no longer lovestruck or miserable, she was happy for her, but also wary, she felt as though the girl had not only lost his mories but also a tiny fragnt of her soul, it unnerved her but the girl was happier now and free of heartbreak, so she let it pass.
She was mostly glad that she never even spoke about lord Damien’s brother, she probably didn’t even rember he existed once in her life anymore and it was more than enough for her to be at least relieved, but she swore she would make lord Zamiel pay for hurting her so bad, to the extent he broke her, one way or the other, it didn’t matter how, vengeance was in her blood.
Everyday, Rama woke up more dull and tensed than the last, it felt as though the heavy rock of settlent and dread that he elicited in her increased in size and weight everyday, but it wasn’t unexpected, after all the wedding was drawing near.
Imdiately she rose from her bed on another undetermined and unenthusiastic day, a knock was heard on the door and she called whoever it was to co in.
It was Lyla as always with a carefree smile plastered on her face as always, she had liked her simplicity, but now everything seed to unnerv her, especially that smile that gave her a million reasons why she could never have a normal life anymore, because she was born a princess.
Never had she been jealous of anyone’s life but now she was jealous of Lyla who was living such a carefree life in the comfort and solace of a generous vampire lord’s abode, never had to worry about a foreboding prophecy or an unknown future, or choosing between a charming vampire lord and a dark vampire lord.
If she could, she’d switch her life shrouded in dark mysteries for the simplicity of Lyla’s. How she craved to wake up and just gaze at the sun, awe stricken or tend to a beautiful garden or probably just stuff herself with food and pastries she’d enjoy, but now the lump of uneasiness stuck in her throat made her lose her appetite, she could barely taste anything.
After exchanging greetings, Lyla inford her about her wedding gown which had been brought over for fitting by the seamstress, one week before the wedding.
Lyla exited the room after passing down the ssage, but her face turned pale, sucking the golden glow of her sun kissed skin, it all seed like an invisible joke until now, she was really about to get married and Draco was one to undoubtedly rain havoc on her wedding day.
If there was one thing, the witch diviner was wrong, the darkness wasn’t going to lead her to her salvation, that darkness being Draco was doubtlessly going to lead her to her damnation, either he would be the death of her or she would be the death of him if he ruined her wedding, she swore beneath her breath.
She scurried out of the bed into the washroom as she took her bath and clad herself in a dress before walking out toward the dressing room where the seamstress and her supposed wedding dress were.
She opened the door and her jade eyes dilated, if it were possible, sparkles lit up in her doe eyes imdiately her gaze travelled to the most beguiling wedding dress she had ever laid eyes on.
It was obvious even without anyone telling her. It was her wedding dress, the white, shimring dress seated at the middle of the room on a hanger stealing all’s attention and gazes.
"It’s ti for the fitting." The seamstress’s cold voice broke her out of her gaping reverie, it was simply a fascinating work of art, one that left her enthralled.
She cleared her throat awkwardly and nodded, Malika was as amazed at the wedding dress, while she stripped her clothes off which was rather a rag in contrast to her wedding gown. They helped her into the wedding gown which would have been a hassle for her alone as it had so many laces, buttons and knots to do.
After successfully cladding her in the wedding gown, the seamstress observed every angle and pattern of the wedding dress, checking whether it fit perfectly, whether it was too tight or too loose and when she was done checking, she gave a satisfied smile which Rama decoded as perfection, she was pleased with her perfect work of art, anyone would.
Its shimring white fabric, spun from the finest silk, seed to possess a life of its own, as though it were woven from strands of moonlight itself.
The gown’s bodice was a work of art, adorned with delicate, hand-embroidered lace that cascaded like ivy vines, gracefully accentuating the her silhouette.
The neckline dipped in a gentle curve, drawing the eye to a subtle yet srizing angle.
As she approached, she was captivated by the gown’s sleeves, fashioned from translucent silk organza, that billowed like frothy clouds, giving the impression that she was adorned in dreams.
Each sleeve was adorned with intricate beading, pearls, and tiny crystals that caught the torchlight and scattered it into a thousand tiny stars.
The gown’s skirt was a marvel in itself, with layer upon layer of flowing fabric that seed to ripple with every step, creating an illusion of herself floating on air. As she grazed her fingers over it, she was t with the sensation of touching a silken waterfall, cool and gentle to the touch.
But it was the train of the gown that truly left her breathless. It stretched out behind her like a river of moonbeams, adorned with delicate embroidery that told a story of love and destiny. She couldn’t help but imagine herself, walking down the aisle, leaving a trail of stardust in her wake.
In that mont, as she gazed upon the beguiling shimring white wedding gown, she knew that it was not just a garnt; it was a symbol of love, hope, and the magic of a new beginning.
It was a gown fit for a fairy tale, but she was in no fairytale and there was no love in the air, although the only thing she was sure of was the new begining, which would be defined by either the success of the wedding or the failure.
Her rational mind and her heart fought between wanting the wedding to either be a success or a failure.
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