Chapter 59
Inside Celestina’s suite, her wedding gown hung on a mannequin in the corner, a masterpiece of delicate lace and shimmering silk. The bodice was intricately embroidered with tiny pearls and crystals that caught the light with every movement, and the long, flowing train spilled onto the floor like a river of stars. A matching veil, edged in the same delicate lace, rested nearby, waiting for its moment.
“Celestina, hold still, please,” said Elena, her stylist, as she pinned a section of her hair.
Celestina sat before a large vanity, her reflection showing a serene yet focused bride-to-be. Her hair was being styled into a soft chignon, with a few loose curls framing her face. The makeup artist worked on her skin, brushing her cheeks with a soft pink blush to complement her natural glow.
“I still can’t believe the big day is here,” said Marissa, one of her closest friends, holding up a sparkling tiara. “You’re going to look like a queen, Cel.”
Celestina smiled faintly, her thoughts racing even as she tried to focus on the moment. “It feels surreal,” she admitted.
“Have you decided on the final flower arrangement for the tables?” Elena asked, glancing at her clipboard. “The florist is waiting for confirmation.”
“The white roses and peonies,” Celestina said without hesitation. “Keep it simple but elegant.”
“And the menu?” Marissa chimed in. “Is it final?”
Celestina nodded. “Yes, everything’s set. I just hope everyone enjoys it.”
“They will,” Marissa assured her, squeezing her shoulder. “This wedding is going to be perfect.”
Celestina glanced at the gown in the corner, her chest tightening with a mix of excitement and nerves. She wanted everything to go smoothly, but the weight of her past and the journey that had brought her here was hard to ignore.
Amid the bustle, a soft knock came at the door. Elena moved to answer it, returning moments later with a curious expression.
“Celestina, this just arrived for you,” she said, holding out a plain white envelope.
Celestina frowned, taking it from her. It was unmarked, with no indication of who had sent it. The paper felt slightly rough beneath her fingers, as though it had been hastily handled.
“What is it?” Marissa asked, leaning over curiously.
“I don’t know,” Celestina replied, her voice cautious.
The room grew quieter as the other women noticed the sudden change in atmosphere. Even the stylists paused their work, sensing something unusual.
