Epilogue
EPILOGUE
SOPHIE
ONE YEAR LATER
I ’m marrying my best friend today. I can’t believe I’m saying these words. Me, Sophie Anderson, will become Sophie Ayoub. The thought makes me giggle, even as my heart races with anticipation. I’m standing behind the grand church doors, the buzz of excitement on the other side almost tangible. Everyone I love is here, and at the end of the aisle stands the man who has completely and irrevocably stolen my heart. Liam. My Liam.
“Are you ready, my love?” Leora’s voice is soft and full of emotion as she looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Her large green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Oh, here I go again. You look so beautiful.”
“Like a princess,” Adeline adds with a grin, smoothing her dust-pink maxi dress. Both of them look like a dream in their one-shoulder gowns. Leora’s brown hair is styled in a half-updo that showcases her delicate features, while Adeline’s thick black hair cascades down her back, making her dark eyes pop even more than usual.
These are my best friends—my sisters.
I’m in my dream wedding dress, exactly as I’d always imagined for this day. The off-the-shoulder neckline sweeps gracefully across my collarbones, accentuating the delicate line of my shoulders. The fitted bodice hugs my frame perfectly, the white satin fabric free of embellishments, and its simplicity is stunning in its own right. The dress flows seamlessly into a mermaid silhouette, flaring subtly at the hem with a train that glides effortlessly behind me as I walk.
My hair is simple, just the way I like it. My long bangs are tucked neatly behind my ears, keeping my face unhidden, while the rest of my hair falls straight down my back, soft and understated.
I take a steadying breath, though I don’t feel nervous at all. It’s the opposite. I’m calm. Centered. This moment feels like coming home. ”I’m more than ready,” I say, my voice steady.
Their faces light up with matching smiles.
“Okay, then let’s do this.” Leora turns to her son, my little nephew. “Antoine, are you ready? You’re going to walk to Baba, okay?”
“Yes, Mama,” he says, his tiny voice full of determination. At two and a half, he’s the perfect ring bearer—dressed in his little suit, looking like a mini Lucas.
The doors open, and Antoine toddles forward confidently, clutching the ring pillow with both hands. He makes it halfway down the aisle before stopping abruptly, his wide eyes scanning the crowd. “Mama!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the space as he waves and points enthusiastically.
Leora laughs softly and hurries forward, scooping him up and whispering something in his ear. With a giggle, he settles back into her arms, still clutching the pillow as she continues walking with Adeline by her side.
The soft strains of the violin fill the air, but the doors close again, leaving me alone for a moment.
“Sophie,” a familiar voice says, and I turn to see Aliyah standing there, her eyes glassy with tears. “You look so beautiful, my girl.”
Before I can respond, I see him—standing just behind her.
“Dad?”
I dreamed of this moment, but with his condition, I never allowed myself to hope too much. I didn’t know if he’d be here, if he’d remember.
“Petal,” he says, his voice so warm as he steps toward me, slow and measured.
Tears blur my vision as he wraps me in an embrace I’ve missed so much. I clutch him tightly, overwhelmed by the miracle of this moment.
“He woke up today, ready to wear his suit and walk you down the aisle,” Aliyah explains, her voice soft. A tear escapes my eye, but she’s quick to dab it away with a tissue. “No crying, honey. You’ll ruin your makeup.”
I laugh through the emotion, turning to my handsome dad again.
“I’m so proud of you, Petal,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, each word carrying the weight of a lifetime. His sincerity shines through, even as his lips twitch into a faint, beloved smile. “I still think you’re too young—marriage at twenty.”
He still thinks it’s eleven years ago, his mind caught in a place I can’t reach. But right now, it doesn’t matter. His words are enough.
“But,” he continues, his voice softening, “I like Liam. So I’ll allow him to steal you away—if you promise to always visit me.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. I force a wobbly smile, my hand gently squeezing his. “I promise, Dad,” I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. ”Always.”
He nods, his grip tightening briefly around mine as if to seal the promise. In this moment, time feels fragile, fleeting—but his words, his pride in me, are everything.
“I will never leave you.” I give him a kiss on his cheek before I stand tall.
I hold his arm tightly—the first man in my life—ready for him to walk me to the man who will be my forever.
The grand doors open again, and the music swells. The violin’s notes float through the air, wrapping around me like a dream. Each step down the aisle feels like a journey—a celebration of every moment that’s led me here. My heart pounds in rhythm with my steps as I move closer to Liam.
Our eyes lock, and I see nothing but him. His magnetic smile is fixed on me, and the love in his gaze is so intense that it steals my breath.
“Forget-me-nots,” my dad whispers, and I glance at him in surprise.
“Look down, Petal.”
I lower my gaze and gasp softly. The aisle is lined with forget-me-nots, their delicate blue blossoms a vivid reminder of everything Liam has done to make this day special. Tears well again, but this time, they’re tears of pure joy. He did this for me.
When we reach the altar, my dad places my hand in Liam’s. His touch lingers for a moment, and he nods at Liam, the unspoken words between them clear: Take care of her .
The ceremony passes in a blur, every word etching into my heart.
“Do you, Liam Ayoub, take Sophie Anderson to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to cherish, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Sophie Anderson, take Liam Ayoub to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and to cherish, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”
“I do, a million times. I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Liam’s eyes glint with wickedness as he steps forward. His hand slides to the small of my back, and with a playful smirk, he dips me low, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s equal parts tender and passionate.
Cheers erupt around us as he pulls me upright, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re mine, Mrs. Ayoub,” he whispers, his voice full of awe.
“And you’re mine, Mr. Ayoub,” I reply, my heart bursting with happiness.
We turn to face our friends and family, hand in hand, as confetti rains down and the violins play. But all I see—all I feel—is him.
Forever starts today.
THE END