The one bright blue sky finally set into the hues of orange across the skies, ushering the stars and evening breeze to take over the Hudson-Richard drama the day had been plagued with.
Eventually, muffled echoes of clapping and laughter from the garden faded into the distance as Cyra sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. Her gown, once a pristine white symbol of new beginnings, now felt suffocating, the intricate beading scratching against her skin as though it too disapproved of the union.
Nancy sat beside her, fuming. "I can't believe them! You've barely had a moment to breathe since they shoved this circus down your throat." She glanced at Cyra, her friend's usually fiery eyes dulled with exhaustion. "Cyra, say something."
