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The altar is draped in thousands of perfect white blooms, hanging like a living chandelier beneath the soft canopy of trees. It’s breathtaking—like we’ve stepped into heaven.

Zayn lets out a stunned breath beside me, Chris mutters something that sounds a lot like “Holy shit,” and Liam—usually unreadable—blinks slowly, visibly impressed.

For a second, none of us move. We just stand there, suspended in silence, caught in the spell of something so impossibly beautiful.

“Thalia did all of this?” We hear Ethan ask, like he’s talking to himself, awe in his voice.

I think there’s a story there, but today is not the day to ask him about it.

I scan one last time this part of the garden, then remember I need to move. Straightening my back, I walk to my place.

I stand tall at the end of the aisle, shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of me to keep from fidgeting like a damn child.

Zayn gives me a brief nod from where he stands beside me, all my brothers in a row next to him. Liam’s on my other side, unreadable like always, but I feel his steady presence like an anchor.

The music shifts and the guests rise to their feet.

And there it is—the sound I’ve been waiting for my entire life without even realizing it.

I hold my breath for a long time, my hands shaking faintly, until she appears.

Sierra—my woman, my love, my bride.

She walks slowly, every step a quiet symphony of grace and power. Her mermaid-style dress hugs her every curve in a way that leaves no room for air in my lungs. The long train trails behind her like royalty. And her veil…

God, her veil—it’s endless. Ten meters of sheer, floating elegance that follows her like a dream. Her black, curvy hair tumbles freely down her back, soft waves cascading over her shoulders. And her lips—red, rich, untouchable—knock the breath from my chest.

It’s overwhelming. She’s beautiful in a way that aches. That destroys. That heals.

My vision blurs, my throat tightens, and I blink hard, not caring who sees.

As she draws closer, her father turns toward me, his expression somewhere between serious and deeply moved. He pauses, places Sierra’s hand in mine and looks me in the eyes.

“I give you my daughter—the most precious and sacred thing in my life. Please, treat her with love and care, Nick,” he says, and it’s the first time in my life I see this ruthless businessman with tears in his eyes.

I nod once, firm and slow, my chest aching.

He steps back, and takes his seat in the front row, next to his wife and my parents.

And now it’s only her in front of me. Only Sierra.

I stare at her in awe for a heartbeat that stretches into forever, fighting the urge to pull her in my arms and kiss her with all I have. I want so bad to touch her, to hold her, to breathe her in.

“Hi,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.

“Hi.” I smile, but it’s small—reverent. “You’re breathtaking, Sierra. Again, I can’t form any other words,” I murmur softly, squeezing her hands—her fingers soft and slightly trembling in mine.

The officiant begins to speak, but I don’t hear most of it.

My world narrows to her—the way her eyes shine; the quiet tremble of her chest as she breathes; the flush of her cheeks; the way she doesn’t look away, not even once.

“It’s time for your vows.” I hear, almost imperceptible, and I shift my attention toward the officiant only for a second.

Then I turn to face Sierra completely and take both her hands in mine.

“What could I say to the woman I’ve already spent almost all my life being in love with?”

I begin, my voice steady despite the storm inside my chest.