CHAPTER 123: DREAMS BEFORE DAWN

–Laura–

My eyes flew wide open, and for a moment, the whole world felt heavy on my chest. My heart pounded like it wanted to escape, and I clutched my tummy with trembling hands, desperate to feel the safety of the little lives inside me. Relief flooded me when I realized I wasn’t alone—my sister was right there, sitting beside me, her worried gaze fixed on me like she’d been guarding me all night.

"You were having a bad dream," Livana said softly, her voice steady, like she was stating something unshakably true.

The sight of her—alive, safe, and so close—broke something inside me. My lips wobbled, tears brimmed, and suddenly I was crying, crying so hard that my chest hurt even more. I sat up slowly, every movement weighed down by the remnants of that horrible dream. My body was heavy, but her arms were open, and I fell into them. She hugged me tight, and I clung to her like a child afraid of the dark.

"It’s alright," she whispered against my hair. "Whatever you dreamed of, it won’t happen. I’ll make sure of that."

Her promise wrapped around me like a blanket, and I sobbed in her arms until the storm inside me began to settle. Minutes felt like hours until finally, I blinked through the blur of tears and glanced at the clock. Six in the morning? Really?

"I can’t walk down the aisle with swollen eyes," I sniffled, frowning at my reflection in the thought of it.

Livana let out the tiniest laugh, that delicate laugh of hers that always made me feel safe.

"Alright," she said playfully, "we’ll get the ice ready."

Suddenly, a series of quick knocks rattled the door, and in tumbled the girls, bringing with them a wave of chatter and mischief. Sophia, bossy as ever, was blocking my poor fiancé from sneaking in.

"You can’t see the bride yet!" she scolded Damien like a strict teacher catching a naughty student.

"Babe, are you alright? Do you need my help?" Damien’s voice came muffled from the other side, desperate but sweet.

"I’m fine, Damien! Just get ready!" I called back, trying to sound brave as I let out a chuckle that shook away the leftover tears.

"Do you need food? I’ll make you breakfast!" he added, his voice more frantic now.

"Tsk. Just go and make breakfast already," Sophia snapped, slamming the door in his face. She turned back with a wicked grin, her camera already raised like a weapon. "Now," she declared with a spark in her eyes, "let’s get ready for the shots."

"We’ll need ice in a basin and filtered water for her face," Livana instructed calmly as she slipped off the bed, already taking charge like the queen she is.

Alyssa wasn’t with us yet—probably off somewhere choreographing the boys’ antics—but we carried on. We took quick little photos, giggling in between. I bathed, and the girls fluttered around me like fairies, painting my face with gentle strokes, arranging my hair with careful fingers. I didn’t want stylists or anything too grand—I wanted it to be simple. Just us. Just love.

And we were happy—oh, so happy—but the memory of that dream tugged at the back of my mind like a shadow. My sister must have noticed, because she squeezed my hand, grounding me back into the light.

Then came the videography we had all plotted like a little secret mission. Logan helped us with it—dear, sweet Logan. He knew Livana could see again, and he never once spoiled it or let it slip. He just helped, thoughtful and quiet, even though I knew... I knew what his heart had once felt for me. But he didn’t ruin it. He didn’t make a scene. He let me go, and for that, I would always be grateful.

Hours melted away in laughter and clicking cameras until we finally paused for lunch. Afterwards, I slipped into my gown, nerves tingling all over me. Relief swept through me when I realized—it still fit.

The door creaked open and Alyssa bounced in. I saw her through the tall mirror as she froze mid-step, her mouth falling open.

"Wow," she gasped, eyes sparkling. "You look... so gorgeous. So stunning. I want to get married in the exact same gown."

"Sure," Livana chimed in before I could answer, her tone playful but sharp as a pin. "But you have to graduate first, build your career, and be independent."

"Okay!" Alyssa squealed, her whole body squirming in excitement. Her joy was contagious, so pure, so innocent. She was like the baby sister I never had but always wanted. My heart swelled with love as I looked at her, at all of them—my sisters, my girls, my everything.

–Damien–

I couldn’t deny it—I was worried. Perhaps it was because I too had a dream last night, heavy and strange, the kind that clings to you long after your eyes are open. Or maybe it was simply the secrecy of this wedding, the weight of planning something so delicate, so private, yet so sacred. Or maybe—most likely—it was the absence of Laura beside me. Ever since the first night I touched her, ever since we gave ourselves to each other fully, I have never grown accustomed to sleeping without her warmth curled into mine. Nights apart feel incomplete, like a melody missing its refrain.

We’ve had disagreements, of course—what lovers don’t? But anger between us always burned itself into something else, something wilder, deeper. We would argue, we would clash, and then we would collide again, bodies and hearts in an inferno of passion. That’s us. That’s why we never stay mad. Love is our fire, and it always consumes everything else.

But as the day unfolded, the worry began to unravel in the busyness of it all. The photographers swarmed us, the videographers with their endless equipment, and preparations for the same-day edit kept us distracted. Laughter and chatter filled the air, reminding me that love, not fear, was the rhythm of this day.

"So," Damon asked with that smirk of his, "what’s your gift for your wife?"

I leaned back, unable to hide my grin. "Her heart already belongs to me, but I thought I’d add to my assets," I teased. "Laura’s weakness is shoes. I had a pair custom-made for her, spoke personally to the CEO of the company."

Damon’s eyes lit up knowingly. "The one with red soles?"

I grinned wider, proud. "Exactly. With her name engraved. Something she can wear that’s both comfortable and elegant—like her."

"That’s sweet of you," Damon sighed, though his tone carried that weight I always hear when he speaks of Livana.

"I think Livana and I don’t have an exchange gift," he added softly.

Before I could reply, Caine cut in with a wicked grin. "Letting you make love to her is already the greatest gift, isn’t it?"

Kai erupted with laughter. "Yeah. You fantasize about her every day, Damon. We all know it—even if you don’t say it out loud."

They teased, but I knew the truth. Damon’s obsession was not just flesh—it was his soul, his every thought. The way he bit his lip when Livana walked by, the way his gaze followed her as if she were his gravity. His entire being was hers.

"Lucky bastard," Caine muttered with a laugh.

But Damon only smiled in that quiet, haunted way of his. "Livana gave me a gift," he said suddenly, and we all turned.

"What is it?" Caine asked.

His grin deepened, secretive, heavy with meaning. "She gave it to me recently—the greatest gift. I’ll be receiving it later."

We exchanged puzzled looks, half-certain he was speaking of something intimate, half-wondering if it was something more. But Damon offered nothing more than that enigmatic smile.

The day moved on—photos, laughter, adjustments, and more waiting. Family began arriving, and preparations shifted for the sunset ceremony. I should have been thinking only of my vows, only of Laura—but my mind couldn’t help slipping into a shadow when I realized... my family was not there. My mother was gone. My stepmother wanted nothing to do with me. My father? A ghost, absent as always.

And yet, Damon’s parents, warm and welcoming, greeted me midway through the crowd as if I were their own. My uncle and aunt never treated me as less either—they never let me feel the stain of being a bastard. And for that, I silently thanked them all.

Still, I was not prepared for what happened next.

The chatter fell quiet, the light dimmed to honey-gold, and Damon reached for Livana’s hand by the grand piano. She sat gracefully, her cello against her body, the small microphone gleaming faintly. Damon began to play, his fingers coaxing music like silk, and then Livana’s bow met the strings. The sound that rose was divine.

I turned instinctively toward the garden trail, and there she was.

Laura.

My bride. My love.

She was standing at the edge of it all, frozen, her eyes wide as the music caught her like a net. Her lips parted, trembling. She looked at her sister—at Livana—and her face said everything her voice could not. Longing. Joy. Relief. Love.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to break, not to fall apart. This was our wedding day. I was supposed to smile. I was supposed to be the strong one. But when she finally looked at me—oh, when her gaze found mine—I knew. I couldn’t stop the tears. I couldn’t pretend to be untouched.

She was radiant. She was breathtaking. She was my future walking toward me in a gown that made her glow like starlight. And with Livana’s cello singing behind her, it felt as though the universe itself had composed a song just for us.

It wasn’t just music. It was our story, strung into notes. And in that moment, as my bride came closer, I knew—I had never loved so deeply in all my life.