The Matchmakers

TWENTY NINE

TWENTY NINE

"SOPHIE?"

Sophie tugged her gaze away from the panakes blossom on the table before her and glanced up into the mirror, where the anxious faces of her friends were reflected in the shimmering glass. While she'd been lost in thought, one of the girls had wrangled Sophie's hair into an intricate combination of flowers and curls, a far cry from the damp, lank locks of an hour prior, and her dress now clung snugly to her upper body, each of the intricate buttons that lined the back carefully fastened.

They continued looking at her expectantly.

"What?"

Biana smiled brilliantly, but Sophie could see the concern lurking in her eyes. "I said, why don't you give us a twirl?"

Sophie glanced into the mirror. Her dress was beautiful. A sweetheart neckline, long lace sleeves, a full skirt that hung in graceful waves to gently brush the floor. It was a gorgeous dress; fit for a gorgeous princess. She looked like a princess.

If only she felt like she was about to get her happily ever after. Instead she felt like a child about to climb willingly into the witch's oven.

Sophie took a deep breath, pasted a happy smile across her lips, and twirled for her friends. They oohed and ahhed as they admired the diamonds on the skirt, which glittered as they caught the light.

She felt like a fraud.

"Marella, I love what you did with her hair," Biana gushed, admiring the miniature white calla lilies the other girl had woven into Sophie's long curls.

Sophie tore her eyes away from the lilies. They had been Biana's idea, a way to honor Calla even though she couldn't be at the wedding. Marella's crowning achievement was the Panakes blossom that she'd tucked into the diamond-studded clip holding the top section of Sophie's hair back from her face.

The calla lillies had seemed like a good idea until Marella started putting them in Sophie's hair. Now, each tiny blossom only heightened Sophie's awareness that not everyone had made it through the war.

A brusk knock on the door ripped Sophie out of the morbid turn her thoughts had taken.

"Who is it?" Marella called.

"The mother of the bride."

Linh silently pulled the door open and Edaline danced in.

Only a step into the room, Edaline froze midstep. Her mouth formed a perfect "o" of surprise and a glistening sheen of salty tears formed along her bottom lash line. "Sophie," Edaline breathed as one hand fluttered to her lips and the other ghosted over her stomach.

"Mom," Sophie gasped, her stomach clenching at the comforting sight. All her concerns, all her fears seemed to fly out the window with each stuttering step toward the simple safety of her mother's embrace.

"You're breathtaking," Edaline whispered through a throat tight with emotion. Her shaky arms rose as if to embrace her daughter, but stuttered to a stop halfway.

"It's alright, Mom," Sophie reassured her, pausing a few steps away. "You can hug me."

"I don't want to ruin anything," Edaline whispered. "I just..."

Sophie pulled Edaline into a hug. She didn't care if the dress got rumpled, or her hair was messed up. She half hoped it would be. She looked too perfect. This wedding was fake. Her whole relationship was a sham. She shouldn't look this pretty. The dress shouldn't look this perfect. Everyone should be able to see the truth.

This whole event was a fraud.

Edaline pulled away, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "Can I have a moment alone with Sophie please?"