I'm walking down the aisle in our mansion's chapel, leaded by my father. I'm holding his hand tight, it's giving me strenght to not collapse from stress. I feel strangelly out of the place. Time runs definitely too slow, almost stops. Everything feels unreal, like it's just a dream. My heart thumps like it's going to jump out of my chest.
I look around and see that every corner of the chapel is decorated with beautiful, wite flowers. At the altar stands grand arc, also made of white flowers. Candles give out warm light, creating an enchanting aura. My mother outdone herself, as always. I couldn't have dreamt of such a beautiful scenery for my wedding.
And then my eyes land on him. He's good looking, i have to admit that. Tall and well built, but not too muscular. His handsome face is neatly shaved. Brown eyes look around with worry. His dark hair are short and messy, like he would rub them nervously from time to time. It gives him some strange charm.
He looks at me, avoiding eyesight, fidgetting nervously. He's almost as stressed as I am. I wonder, if he's having second thoughts, regretting his proposal, as he saw my miserable appearance. He must've liked what i looked like, as he wanted to marry me without even talking to me, but now i'm not exactly in the best shape.
When I arrive at the altar, I send him a weak smile. He looks stunned by that. My father withdraws to the guest seats and I'm left with my almost husband besides me. I'm trying to look in his eyes but he avoids that.
The ceremony has started. I feel dazed, I don't even listen what priest says. I just look at this handsome man besides me and wonder, why he chose me. From all of the beautiful, young ladies. With his looks, he probably could've captivated every one of them and marry whoever he wanted. Why has he chosen me, and now he won't even look at me? Is he disappointed in what I look like right now? Do I look so horrendous?
"Do you, Anastasia Turner, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, to obey him and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" I am stunned by that question. Do I really want to sentence this man for a lifetime of marriage with woman like me? Disgraced, touched by another man before him. With a ruined mind and soul.
"I do." My voice is shaking as I finally answer, after the while of a uncomfortable silence. I take his hand to place the ring, that I was squeezing in my fist. His hand is cold and sweaty.
"Do you, William Whedon, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, to protect her and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" Priest repeats his question.
"I do." To my surprise, he answers almost instantly. His voice is deep and tender. Isn't he having any doubts, as I do?
He takes my hand delicately, and inserts the ring on my finger. His hand is trembling, as he retreats from touching me. Then he looks straight in my eyes for the first time, with a soft, insecure smile.
I'm enchanted. I can't breath or move. My legs feel soft and wobbly. My heart races like I had just ran a marathon. My mind is empty, no thoughts, no doubts, no guests around us, only me and this man. This strange, handsome man, who chose me to be his bride.