I Do

Chapter 32

Hello loves. Why, my gosh, it's been a while hasn't it? I've missed all this posting. 

GOOD NEWS, for anyone who actually cares: I got a 97 on my Algebra 2 exam and a 100 on my Latin! Thanks for everyone who gave me a little support on all of this studying, it's been a pain, so I hope you can bear with me. 

I spent incredible effort on this chapter, so I hope it's up to standards. 

Dedication (among the 107 comments on last chapter, thanks to YOU beautiful people) goes to... @CrazyMelody. Oh my gosh, her comments were hysterical and she's absolutely beautiful and such a sweetheart. 

I love you, all of you. 

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Chapter 32 *Wedding in: 19d*

-Hallie-

   My lips pucker over the rim of the glass, curling with distaste as the tart, bitter liquid glides smoothly over my tongue and down my throat. Evidently, the wine offered at the oh-so respectable Blackburn Bridal Couture proves no exception to my dislike for alcoholic beverages.

  I slump backwards into a velvety, plush seating arrangement, wincing as my eyes drift towards the mirrored platform. Arabella -- blue eyes sparkling with unhidden glee, skin creamy and unblemished, glossy blonde locks slung over one shoulder -- twirls with enchanting grace in what must be the fiftieth wedding dress she's tried on this morning. Its silky, luxurious fabric delicately skims her slim hips, hugging her curves and rippling downward to give the stunning effect of water itself.

   Reluctantly, I remind myself that I don't particularly care how gorgeous she is or that she's effortlessly captured Harry's heart. Instead, I savor the prickling sensation of my taste buds as I sample another taste of the rich red wine that burns so appealingly as it plunges down my throat.

   Heartbreak, in opposition to the way they make it appear in books and movies, is a complex emotion. It's the kind of experience that, no, can't be solved by aimlessly gorging on ice cream and Nicholas Sparks movies. You can be utterly heartbroken, a tearful mess sobbing into your pillow, and life will patter on as usual, leave you behind. So instead, you conceal those hidden, crushing emotions that are struggling to escape and laugh and joke and study and attend classes as though nothing is wrong whatsoever. Deep inside, though, there's the splintering, heart wrenching truth that whispers to you in the dead of night... he doesn't love you. And then, only then, do you allow yourself to crumble, with chest heaving and salty tears spurting from your eyes.

   "Do you like this one?" Ara calls jubilantly, her voice clear and bell-like as it reverberates through the massive room. A perky, innocent smile tugs at the corners of her rose petal-pink lips and I grin wearily in return, somewhat deflated by how strikingly flawless she looks, as usual. Suddenly, there's no question as to why Harry favors her over me.

   "It looks gorgeous," I confess, disheartened. "You look gorgeous. But then again, so have all the other gowns. Let's see... do you prefer the mermaid or the ball gown style?" It's as if I've completely detached myself from the Hallie who previously inhabited my body, the Hallie that found the idea of Harry and Ar actually marrying absolutely unthinkable and was all-consumed with scheming ways to destroy their relationship. This fresh, new version of me figures that if Harry Styles claims to be unconditionally in love with her, which he has, why should I try to prevent it? Isn't it possible that perhaps... perhaps they're simply, irrevocably, inexplicably meant to be with one another?

  "Hmm." Arabella trails the perfectly-filed tip of her manicured nail over the different gowns, jutting out a lip and cocking an eyebrow in concentration. "I mean, every little girl wants a princess dress," she exclaims, indicating to the billowing white skirt of a stunning, pearl-draped dress. "But then again," she counters with an unsettled frown, flicking her eyes down at the rippling, low-cut dress that caresses her skin. "This is extremely sexy."