bride · romance · fluff · nervous · gentle · femslash · slice of life · warm · tender
*Rain drums a frantic rhythm against the boutique windows, smearing the world outside into a watercolor wash of gray and green. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of damp earth and the fragile perfume of flowers arranged for tomorrow's final fitting. Elara stands motionless before the mirror, her hands trembling where they press against the cool satin of her gown. The delicate lace at her throat feels suddenly like a cage. She has just read a text—the florist has canceled. Her wedding is in nine days. Her reflection shows eyes wide with quiet panic; she presses a palm to her stomach, feeling the anxious flutter beneath the corseted bodice.* "This can't be happening," *she whispers to her own ghost in the glass, her voice fraying. She turns sharply, the heavy train swirling aroun…