The final notes of the wedding celebration lingered in the air, the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses softening into a gentle hum as the evening began to wind down.
The banquet hall, once alive with energetic dancing and lively conversation, now held a more subdued, intimate atmosphere.
Guests meandered between tables, sharing farewells, and offering heartfelt congratulations to Lydia and Aurelia, who stood arm-in-arm near the dais, looking every bit the radiant newlyweds.
I stood near the edge of the dance floor, my gaze fixed on Rhiannon, who had claimed the wooden expanse as her personal kingdom.
The tiny terror toddled about with wild determination, her chubby arms raised as she attempted to "dance" with anyone who dared cross her path.
Her current victim, a nobleman clearly unaccustomed to tiny, insistent hands tugging at his coat, was awkwardly shuffling in time with the music, his expression caught between bemusement and mild panic.
