Page 71 of Ruins
Isabella finishes securing my hair, then drapes the low veil over it before moving on to my makeup. She smirks as she sweeps on shimmering shadow, then soft lipstick.
“So… is he as good as they say?”
Cassandra swats her arm. “Bella, she does not want to hear what his exes say.”
“He doesn’t have exes, Cass. More like flings,” Isabella giggles, but I find nothing funny about it at all.
My stomach twists.
Of course, I expected Santo to have a past. But hearing it out loud—casually—turns expectation into reality, and reality stings.
“Enough,” Cassandra scolds, shooting Isabella a withering look. She immediately lowers her gaze, mumbling an apology. The air shifts, quieter now, as she brushes some highlight onto the tip of my nose and wordlessly packs up her things.
I inhale deeply, forcing the sour weight in my stomach to settle.
“Santo’s past does not matter.” My voice is even, though the words are more for myself than anyone else. “What’s important is the present. The future we will share together.”
Cassandra offers me a small, knowing smile. Isabella stays silent.
When they finish, I smooth my dress and turn to admire my reflection. My heart flutters, a delicate mix of excitement and anxiety. I take a steadying breath.I am fulfilling my duty. I am doing what I was meant to do.
Needing a distraction, I reach for my veil, fidgeting with the delicate lace.
“How do I look?” I ask, shifting slightly to view myself from all angles.
Cassandra steps back, her critical eye sweeping over me with approval before she dusts off her hands.
“You look breathtaking,” she says sincerely.
Isabella finally lifts her gaze, whatever tension from before forgotten as she takes me in.
“Like a true princess,” she whispers, awed.
A knock at the door cuts through the moment. My breath hitches in anticipation as Isabella steps forward to open it.
It’s not Santo, as I half-expected.
Instead, Mimi stands in the doorway, eyes shining with excitement, a stunning bouquet of lilies and roses clutched in her hands.
She gasps as she takes me in fully.
“Oh, Vasilisa,” she breathes, holding the bouquet out to me. “You are going to take everyone’s breath away.”
I accept it gratefully, pressing the flowers close to my chest.
Santo may have had flings.Meaningless. Forgettable. But I am the one he is marrying. Arranged or not, this isours now. And I am determined to make it work—to build something real, something lasting.
Steeling myself one last time, I meet my own gaze in the mirror.
“Here goes,” I whisper.
I turn and follow Mimi out of the room.
My father waits in the hall, adjusting a cufflink, the smallest sign of nervous energy from a man who rarely falters.
“Everyone is outside and ready,” he starts, but when his eyes finally land on me, he stills. His breath catches, and something shifts in his gaze—something warm.
“You are a vision, dochen’ka,” he murmurs, the words thick with affection.
