divorce [h.s.]

eighty four

6 months later

Andria

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're getting married!" my mum squeals for about the hundredth time from where she's stood behind where I'm seated in front of a vanity table.

My eyes flicker up from my reflection in the mirror to my mother who is once again dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "Mum, I've been married before, you know," I remind her, sharing an amused look with my aunt Ronnie who's still curling the ends of my hair.

"I know, I know," she says, shaking her head as if that'll help rid her of the tears threatening to spill out. "But you were still just a child then, darling. You were young and thought you were madly in love, and you were marrying more out of necessity. Not to mention you were rushing down the aisle before a bump started to show...."

"Alright, mum," I cut her off, not really wanting to ruin the mood of the day by taking an unwanted trip down memory lane.

"But now," my mum says, a fond smile on her face as she gently brushes some hair off my shoulder. "You're a fully grown, beautiful woman, and you're getting married because you're truly in love. And you're marrying the most perfect, kindest, sweetest man, a man who I just know is going to do the best job of looking after my daughter and granddaughter."

I smile at her words, reaching down to grab her hand in mine, which she squeezes tightly. "He is, isn't he?" I agree softly, my smile only growing the more I think about him. The more I think about my Harry. "He's already the perfect dad to our baby, now I get to make him my perfect husband."

"Yeah, if you keep still and let me finish your hair," Ronnie playfully chastises, tapping my shoulder as if to scold me.

I just laugh, squeezing my mum's hand once more before pulling away and making sure I'm sitting still so Ronnie can finish my hair. The hotel room we're currently in has been hectic all morning, people running in and out as we all try to make today run as smoothly and perfectly as possible. It's been stressful to say the least, what with the flowers almost getting lost on the way to the venue and the photographer having to race home for another memory card, but I've been attempting to nurse my nerves with glasses of champagne. It was working pretty well too, until my mum took the glasses and the champagne, reminding me that no one likes a drunk bride.

After what feels like hours, my hair and makeup is finally done and it's time to put on the dress. My mum, Ronnie and my cousin Clara help me into my dress, which becomes slightly manic as we remind each other not to smudge my makeup, not to rip it, not to pull too tight, but somehow we manage to get the dress on without any disasters. Ronnie puts on the veil next, slipping pins into my hair to secure it and pulling a few curls down to frame my face. I begin to feel the flutters in my stomach intensifying with every second that passes, having to breathe deeply while Ronnie applies the finishing touches to my makeup, adding another layer of mascara and touching up my lipstick.

"Fuck, I'm nervous," I say as my mum helps me slip on my heels, gripping onto Ronnie's arm for balance. "Why am I so
nervous? Is that normal?"

"It's perfectly normal, darling," my mum assures me.

"But shouldn't I be.....calm?" I ask her, biting down on my lip. "I mean......it's Harry. I love him, I'm marrying him. Why am I nervous?"

"You're nervous because you love him," Ronnie reminds me. "He still gives you butterflies, even on your wedding day. That's a good thing, Andria."

"You probably do have some nerves, it's a big, overwhelming day," my mum says. "But is seeing Harry the part you're most excited for?"

"Yeah," I admit softly, a large smile pulling at my lips. "It is."