The sun filtered gently through the tall windows of the Harrington family estate, casting soft light onto the white floral arrangements that lined the garden path. April stood just inside the drawing room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she stared out at the rows of white chairs set up on the lawn. Everything looked perfect.
But it wasn’t nerves twisting in her stomach—not quite. It was something deeper. Quieter. A solemn ache that this moment, this day, was finally hers. Theirs. A peace she hadn’t known she was waiting for pressed into her chest like a soft ache. It was overwhelming and still, somehow, comforting.
They weren’t getting married again. They were already married. But today was a promise. A real one. A clean slate, with no secrets between them. A vow, this time, given by choice, not circumstance. Not blackmail.
Behind her, the door creaked open, and Poppy stepped in with a smile. “You ready?”
April turned, her mouth curving with emotion. “Almost.”
Poppy walke
