I dressed in my mother’s wedding gown alone. No family, friends, nor maids came to prepare me for the loneliest day of my life. I attached a safety pin and string to the zipper and stepped into the dress. I shimmied it up to my chest and put my arms through the straps. I pulled the zipper up with the string then unattached the safety pin. I walked to the mirror, braided my white hair, and twisted it into a bun. Lastly, I used the same makeup I always did to accent my copper eyes.

I stepped away from the mirror to take a final look. I barely recognized myself in the reflection. Who would’ve thought someone like me would be marrying someone like him? After all, it’s not every day that you marry your first love.

After my house fell, no one could have expected that the former Marquess would require his son to marry me in his will.

Guess that’s what happens when your parents were close when they were young. Too bad he hates me now. I covered my face with my veil.

Someone knocked on the door, then opened it.

“He’s waiting,” the maid said, then left me standing there.

I shrugged and walked out of the bridal room. I followed the maid as she rushed ahead of me. It was almost like she was trying to lose me. I smiled. Too bad for you.

She led me down a corridor, and I spotted the door to the garden where the ceremony was being held.

I stopped chasing her and took a deep breath in. I released it slowly. Here we go. The guards standing on either side of the doors swung them open. The ice-cold wind whipped around me, winter announcing its presence. I plunked the last rose from one of the bushes and held it in my hands. I gripped the stem, piercing my fingers with the thorns.

I noticed a pink-haired woman wearing a revealing dress shivering in the front row. She must be Charlene. A flash of memory of my future husband calling out her name from his study made me want to puke. I feel bad for the furniture.

“We will now begin…” the priest said as he opened his book.

“No need for the formalities, Father Jacob. This is just an arranged marriage,” my groom, Marquess Eric, said as he sneered at me. He outgrew his awkward teenage years with grace and muscles. His green hair slicked back, making his violet eyes shimmer in the sunlight.

Too bad his attitude is terrible.