I stared at myself in the mirror, shocked at how unrecognizable I was. My cheeks were rosy and my lashes were long and dark, framing my chocolate eyes. My lips were pink and glossed, my auburn hair fell past my shoulders in perfect curls, and my tan skin was glowing – which was entirely expected on my wedding day.
The door to the room opened, and my mother rushed in. She had been driving herself crazy with stress ever since I told her the good news of my engagement; she was determined to plan the perfect wedding for her only child. To save her from disappointment, I chose not to explain to her that it was impossible for my wedding to satisfy me.
She spoke to me in a hurried tone, telling me it was time to walk down the aisle. I took one last look at myself before turning and following her out the door, careful not to trip on my long, white gown.
The bridal party had already entered the chapel, but I arrived just in time to see my beautiful three-year-old daughter begin practically skipping down the aisle, ready to toss handfuls of flowers out of a basket, just like we’d practiced for weeks. Her blonde head of hair disappeared into the chapel and I felt my eyes start to well up with tears. This was it.
My father gave me a nervous look. He wasn’t keen on giving me away – I was and always would be his little girl in his mind. When my fiancé asked for his blessing, I’m told that my father said these words: “Nobody deserves such an angel. But if you make her happy, you have my blessing.”
If only he knew the truth.
He held out his arm, and I linked mine through his. We both took deep breaths and stepped through the doors and into the chapel.
Someone once told me that the best part of a wedding is watching the groom’s face as the bride enters the chapel. They said that their face lights up in adoration and awe of her beauty.
Naturally, my eyes immediately locked with his. He looked handsome as ever, his dark hair was spiked upward and he dressed in classic black and white. His grin stretched all the way across his face and he stared at me as if I was his entire world.
I kept my eyes on him as I walked down the aisle, and memories of our time together flashed through my mind.
I remembered how it felt to be wrapped in his arms on my living room couch. I remembered the way his voice sounded in the morning. I remembered sitting by the fire in the winter, talking about God and the future while sipping on hot chocolate. I remembered falling completely head over heels in love with him.
And there he was, standing in the front of the chapel, waiting for me like everyone else.
I reached the end of the aisle, and my father placed a comforting kiss on my cheek before turning to sit next to my mother in the front row.
I looked one last time at the love of my life before turning and facing the father of my daughter, the man I was going to marry. The man I did not love.
He smiled at me and took my hand in his. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before managing to smile back.