"Welcome back, Your Majesty."
"It seemed you had met my family before me, Isaiah," Abel smirked, his voice rasped, peeling his eyes from Isaiah to Tilly. "I'm late for the wedding? Whose wedding?"
"Mine." Tilly pointed at herself, making her big brother arch a brow and cock his head to the side.
"And who is the brave groom?"
Tilly slowly pointed in a direction, stopping the myriads of emotions that were swelling in Isaiah's chest. The latter's brows rose as his thought bubble was replaced with question marks, confused at this confusion she was creating.
"Isaiah?" Abel frowned, and Tilly nodded.
'Me?' Deep lines appeared between Isaiah's brows, and at this point, he didn't feel sentimental anymore. 'Since when? I wasn't informed nor do I remember agreeing to a marriage.'
The moment that thought crossed Isaiah's mind, a fleeting memory flashed in his head.
