I felt like I was bringing my world with me.
Part 5
On the morning of the wedding, sunlight poured through my childhood bedroom curtains like it was trying to bless everything at once.
My bridesmaids—my cousin Emily, my best friend Rachel, and my fellow teacher friend Monique—buzzed around me in a mix of excitement and nerves. My mom moved through the room like a calm current, placing pins where they needed to go, smoothing fabric, steadying hands.
Elena Richie arrived with a small garment bag and the kind of confidence that made the room feel quieter.
“Okay,” she announced. “Let’s make a bride.”
My dress hung on the closet door like a secret weapon and a love letter all at once.
When it was time, my mother helped me step into it.
The silk settled. The beadwork kissed my collarbone. The train pooled behind me like a soft promise.
Rachel stared. “Sarah,” she breathed. “You look… unreal.”
Monique grinned. “Like a princess who could also run circle time.”
I laughed, the sound shaky and bright.
My mother adjusted my veil, then looked me in the eyes.
“You’re ready,” she said.
Not because the dress was expensive.
Because I was me.