Owning You - A Na Jaemin Fanfic

86. Beautiful in White

I'm wearing a wedding dress and a long, white, lacy veil.

I'm a bride.

I'm about to walk up the aisle at the Plaza Hotel. Four hundred people watching my every move.

My fingers tighten around my bouquet.

Then the "Bridal March" starts and my father gives my arm a squeeze, and we start to walk up the aisle.

Suzy and the other three bridesmaids are waiting. Zoe, Soo Nee and Bee Lin, my friends from law school. They are smiling at me.

"Ready?" says Suzy.

"I guess," I say, feeling slightly sick.

The double doors swing open, and I hear the rustle of four hundred people turning in their seats. I can see the gathered faces of my mother and my relations, all my old friends ------ even Namju, still single, looking sad, but smiling bravely at me ------ sitting beside Junho, Suzy's boyfriend, all Jaemin's friends and relations. Sitting side by side, happy and expectant.

The bridesmaids begin to walk up the aisle.

There seem to be white flowers of every kind, threaded along the walls, hanging from the lamps, even decorating the high-backed, pink-ribboned chairs. And on the carpeted floor, pale pink rose petals, strewn and scattered, weaving a magical path all the way to the altar.

And suddenly I'm walking forward.

I'm floating, carried on the swell of the music, the smiling faces, my mother, a tissue in her pale hand, dabbing surreptitiously at her eyes, and I think, distractedly, My mother is crying. How is that possible? and then that fragment of thought is lost, and everything blurs into an enchanted world of dreams.

Fairy lights are twinkling overhead.

And there's Jaemin up ahead, my handsome groom, waiting for me. My prince. Who told me once, his eyes steady on me: I will walk through fire for you, Haeri.

Jaemin stands, back to me, an imposing figure in his black suit; lean, lithe, straight as a ramrod. Tall, slim-hipped, broad-shouldered, devastatingly gorgeous.

A murmur swells from the seated guests, a low thrum at first, growing louder with each step I take, the swish of my train whispering behind me. The altar is straight ahead, all I have to do is keep walking, keep smiling, one silver heel ahead of the other, and pray that I don't trip and plunge headlong onto the floor, and stay calm, stay calm, don't panic and I'm almost there and -----

------ Jaemin turns.

His eyes meet mine and there's a three-second pause while we both stare at each other.

We have locked gazes with each other so many times in our lives ------- on an empty terrace, and across a hallway in high school, over a mahogany table on the night of our engagement, above the babble and the chatter in a crowded cafeteria, in the dusky, half-light of our bedroom ----- it is one of the hundred, thousand things we share in our lives. Covert glances, heated stares, angry glares, jealous scowls ----- all the meaningless, meaningful gestures that have weaved themselves in and out of the complicated, chequered tapestry of our lives.

Jaemin inhales sharply. As if the sight of me has knocked the breath out of his lungs. He blinks rapidly, and I realize, with a squeeze to my heart, that he is holding back tears.

I walk toward Jaemin. My heart swells with each step I take.

He stands motionless. Waiting. Waiting for me.

Twenty steps separate us. Fifteen. Ten. Five.

Three.

Two.