Chapter 8 Aleksandr #2
Every step she takes strips the world away from me.
By the time she’s two-thirds down the aisle, it feels like there is a tunnel between us, a single straight line that nothing else can cross.
The flowers blur, the gold ribbons hanging from the chandeliers blur, even Nik beside me is nothing but a shadow at the edge of my vision.
My entire body tunes itself to her—the sound of her heels on the floor, the gentle sway of her dress, the rise and fall of her breath.
Her eyes stay locked on mine the entire way, and the closer she gets, the more unbearable it is.
My pulse hammers in my ears, hot blood roaring, and I can feel a bead of sweat slide down the back of my neck even though the room is cool.
My hands flex at my sides. I want to reach for her, hold her close, but I stand still because she deserves to finish this walk on her own terms.
When she finally crosses the last stretch, she slows even more, like she’s savoring this—every step an act of quiet defiance, proof that she isn’t afraid of me, proof that she chooses this. Chooses me.
And then she is here, right in front of me.
She tilts her chin up, wide curls brushing her cheeks, and for a split second, we just stare at each other.
Her lips part slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting, and in a voice that’s soft enough that no one else could hear it if they tried, she says, “Hi.”
“Hello,” I whisper back, and the officiant who I forgot was even standing there clears his throat.
I can’t hear anything. The priest is speaking—something about the covenant, about standing together, about the weight and sanctity of marriage—but it’s all distant, muffled, like he’s underwater. The entire world fades to oblivion, and only she stands in front of me.
She bites her lower lip, that soft pink mouth pressing tight for a moment, and then her gaze flickers nervously around the room.
She’s shy like this, hating the weight of so many eyes on her, but even that doesn’t hide how stunning she is.
She shifts her bouquet from one hand to the other, her knuckles pale around the stems, and every time the priest’s voice pauses, I can hear the catch of her breath.
I should be listening. I should at least try.
But I can’t tear my eyes off of her long enough to care.
The priest says something else, a question, and I catch only the last few words. “Do you have vows prepared?”
I take a breath, ready to speak, the words already forming on my tongue. But before I can get a sound out, she speaks.
“I have some,” Lily says quickly, her voice steady but a little rushed, like she’s afraid if she doesn’t start now, she’ll lose her nerve. “I know what you want to say. I-I mean you said a lot earlier, and I didn’t and now-”
“Just say it,” I whisper, so low so only she can hear.
She turns to hand her bouquet back to Nadia. Her hands shake slightly as she pulls a folded piece of paper from the inside of her corset, tucked so carefully against her skin.
My hands twitch at my sides. I feel like a fucking teenager, scared to be rejected for the first time.
She smooths the paper out, the crease marks from her body still sharp across it, and when she lifts her eyes to mine, there’s a look there that roots me to the ground. It’s shy and brave and unflinching all at once.
“You know things about me,” she says softly. “Things like my perfect wedding, probably my favorite cookie and the movies I watch when I’m anxious. The books I read when I’m sad. And now I think you know all the lyrics to Brandy’s songs because of me too.”
I smirk, watching her tongue poke out and lick her glossy lips. She’s still shaken, but determined.
Her eyes flick to the paper and then back to me, like she can’t stand not watching my face.
“But I notice things about you too. I notice how you eat PB and J with strawberry jam instead of grape. How you go on runs in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.
How you pretend you don’t do carbs but you always eat biscuits…
my biscuits.” Her lips curve, soft and shy, like that small rebellion against myself amuses her.
“And I notice that little twitch in your brow when something annoys you,” she continues, a faint laugh threading through her voice. “Or how your smirk isn’t really a smirk at all. It’s almost a full smile, but when you do smile—when you actually let yourself—it’s blinding.”
Every word comes out a little steadier, a little braver, and I feel each one in my chest like it’s a blade pushed through me.
“I know you feel so intensely about me,” she says, her voice dipping low enough that for a moment it feels like this is just for us.
“And I can’t match your extreme, or the way you know exactly how to say things.
But I can tell you this—I love you. I love you like fight-the-whole-world love you.
I love you like make-you-strawberry-jam-from-scratch-every-Sunday love you.
I love you like you are the first and last thing I think about every day, and I cannot wait to say ‘I do’.
Because I don’t think I want it to be anyone but you.
So, even though you are crazy, and romantic I want you to know I am crazy about you too, Alek. I need you, too.”
“Not like I need you,” I whisper back, and she smiles, looking up at me through her lashes. She folds the paper with hands that tremble just a little, tucking it against Nadia’s waiting fingers, and then she just looks at me head on.
The priest clears his throat, his voice warm when he asks, “Aleksandr, do you have vows of your own?”
I can’t move. My entire body is vibrating with the need to touch her, to crush my mouth to hers, to break every rule I set for myself for this ceremony. “I said everything I needed to say earlier.”
The priest starts again, “Do you—”
“Yes,” I cut him off, my voice low and rough enough that a few people laugh under their breath.
He tries to say more, but Lily jumps in, her eyes never leaving mine as she says, “I do.”
“Well, can we get the rings?” The officiant chuckles, but I am stuck staring at a wide eyed Lily, licking my lips at the prospect of her being mine in front of a crowd, for everyone to see. It is so close I can taste it.
My gaze drops as Gio steps forward, holding the small velvet box with both hands and carefully handing it to me. I nod slightly, and he smiles widely at the both of us.
Inside, two rings rest side by side—so different, yet meant for no one but us.
“Now repeat after me—”
“I already know it,” I cut him off, lifting the yellow gold ring from its cushion.
The band curls into a delicate, vine-like twist that cradles a deep sapphire at its center.
The gem is cut into the shape of a perfect rose—petals captured in shimmering blue, a quiet homage to the enchanted bloom from Beauty and the Beast, her favorite story as a child.
“With this ring,” I murmur, my voice low, “you’ve stolen every last excuse I had to keep my distance.” Tiny etched leaves run along the band, catching the light as I slide it onto her finger.
She breathes out a shaky laugh, but I don’t stop. “I vow to be your shield, your refuge, and your home. I vow to give you everything I have—and more—to be yours until my last breath.”
My thumb traces the intricate vines, feeling each ridge, the way they curl protectively around the rose. She bites her bottom lip, fighting tears, and my chest tightens.
Her hands tremble only slightly as she takes my ring from Gio.
The band she slides onto my finger is solid gold—heavy, warm, unadorned except for the engraving on the inside, where no one else will ever see.
Lily. Just her name, pressed into the metal like a brand.
The moment it locks into place over my knuckle, I swear I feel it in my chest.
“Aleksandr,” she says, her voice steady despite the tremor in her breath, “I vow to be yours. To give you my heart. My soul. My body.” She exhales, eyes locked on mine. “I’m yours.”
My vision narrows to her alone. I don’t know if the officiant has pronounced us husband and wife yet—I don’t care. I’m already cupping her face in both hands and kissing her, hard, as the rest of the world falls away.
It’s not gentle. It’s not even careful. It’s like every piece of me that has been restrained, every plan, every ounce of control explodes in one moment.
Her lips part beneath mine, soft and urgent, and I pull her closer, crushing her body against me until there’s nothing between us but the heat of her and the world-breaking relief that she is mine.
The guests cheer, but I barely hear it. The only thing I’m aware of is her—her hands gripping my jacket, her breath mingling with mine, and the taste of her lips. Everything else, everyone else, ceases to exist.
When we finally break apart, she’s smiling so wide she can barely breathe, and my hands are still cradling her like I don’t ever intend to let go.