Apricity

Chapter One

The door opened, ushering in a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh tulips—white and pink, arranged to perfection. Elegant off-white curtains swayed ever so slightly, casting fleeting shadows under the golden glow of the chandeliers.

It was breathtaking. A wedding venue straight out of a dream.

A dream she hadn’t realized was hers.

She walked down the aisle, her honey-brown eyes shut, her fingers cold against the firm grip of the man she called her father. She could hear the whispers surrounding her.

"The bride looks beautiful."

"I think this is just a business marriage arranged by their families."

"Both the bride and groom are good-looking."

"Look, I don’t know about the bride, but the groom looks happy."

Wait—what?

Her eyes fluttered open halfway through the aisle, her mind latching onto the last comment. Happy? What did they mean by he's happy?

The moment she did, reality struck with the force of a tidal wave.

Her gaze drifted over the venue—the soft pink and white tulips forming a delicate path down the aisle, the drapes falling exactly as she once envisioned, the arrangement of the lights, the subtle details woven into the decor.

A realization crashed over her.

She designed this.

But her thoughts barely had time to settle before her eyes reached the end of the aisle—where he stood.

A glint of confusion flashed through her gaze—just for a second—but it didn’t go unnoticed. He saw it.

Standing at the altar, he wore a slight, knowing smile.

The man waiting for her, bathed in the golden light, was devilishly handsome. His presence demanded attention, his tailored suit accentuating the sharpness of his features, his dark gaze watching her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Bloom's heart lurched. Her breath hitched as panic set in. She wasn't prepared for this. She had braced herself for a loveless, strategic marriage, not for a groom who wanted this.

Her eyes darted around the venue until they landed on her godfather. She tried to compose herself, but she couldn’t stop the silent plea in her gaze as she wordlessly asked him—Tell me I’m not imagining things.

Before she could process anything further, her father came to a stop. His grip loosened as he placed her trembling hand into another’s—warm, steady, unwavering.

Her heart lurched.

The moment their fingers touched, she knew.

She knew who he was.

And as she looked up at the man she was about to marry, reality struck with an unforgiving force.

The one person she had cherished since childhood.

The only decision her father had ever made that she could thank him for.