Wedding Bells!

Serafina’s POV:

[A Church]

I stared at a reflection. Not just any reflection, but my fucking reflection.

“Impossible,” I flinched at the sound of my voice.

My own damn voice, and I watched my jaw drop in disbelief.

Okay, what the fuck was going on?

I spun around slowly, soaking in the sight of a dressing room. On the walls were hangers, and white dresses dangled from them in neat rows.

Was heaven supposed to be like this? Was it supposed to have racks stacked with shoes? The scent of powder lingering in the air? Distant noises? The soft ringing of bells?

Was heaven supposed to look like a dressing room!?!

Again, I turned back to the mirror. My reflection stared right back at me.

I was me. Alive. Still me.

"Maybe it was a dream" a voice whispered in my head, and I froze.

Slowly, I inched closer to the full‑bodied mirror and studied myself.

I wore a white dress. No— a wedding dress, and it was painfully familiar. Puffy. Pristine. Perfect.

It was the wedding dress I wore three years ago. On the day I married Roderick.

My brow twitched as my chest rose and fell unevenly.

“I’m so confused,” I muttered, dragging my shaky gaze back to my face.

I alone had full, curly vermillion‑red hair. I alone had brown eyes that gleamed like honey, even in confusion.

But there it was. A small mark on my right cheek.

Instantly, memories flooded my mind. Roderick and Vittoria’s “present.” Papà’s charred body. Mamà’s death.

Then mine.

My shoulders slumped under the weight of the realization.

“I died,” I whispered, and the words echoed inside my skull.

It took a moment to sink in, and I lifted my hands to my face.

I nearly clawed at my cheeks, desperate to peel my skin away just to confirm I was alive. Breathing. Real. Not dead.

“What’s happening?” I whispered hoarsely.

My arms dropped uselessly to my sides just as I heard a knock.

I turned so fast that I thought my spirit might finally leave my body.

Clearly, it refused to do so.

“Miss Serafina,” a voice called, followed by another knock.

“C‑coming,” I managed, cringing at how strange my voice sounded.

Of course it sounded strange. I never thought I would hear it again!

Ruffles filled the air as I moved toward the door. I wrapped my fingers around the knob and opened it.

The face of a delivery man should have been unfamiliar. Aside from being Serafina Rabbia, born into wealth, I had never opened a door myself.

I lived that kind of life.

I also remembered how Papà had somehow single‑handedly booked every worker. Every single one.

Makeup artists refused my money. Churches were fully booked and refused to host this wedding.

Then there was Roderick, who flew in every worker from his hometown in England.

So there was no reason I should recognize this man.

But I did.

“I’m here to deliver a parcel,” he said, and I blinked.

Only then did I notice the way his nose scrunched in irritation at my staring.

“Y‑yeah,” I replied quietly.

He handed it to me, and just like three years ago, there was no name on it.

Then that meant..

I turned abruptly and rushed to the window.

From there, I squinted, and I saw him.

Three years ago, on my wedding day, I had received a parcel. While examining it, I had wandered back to my vanity and spotted a man standing at a distance.

He wore a suit. A well‑tailored one. Clearly designer.

He stood by the parking lot, leaning against a dark car, and even from afar, I could feel his gaze.

Back then, I assumed Papà had sent him. Maybe Papà was trying one last time to change my mind about the wedding.

Three years ago, I never opened the parcel. I dumped it aside and rushed down the aisle, ready to marry Roderick.

But now my heart pounded violently, and my lips pressed together.

Confusion from being alive again mixed with the weight of this moment. It surged through my veins as I set the parcel on the vanity.

With trembling fingers, I tore it open.

Back then, I thought it would be a ticket. A cheque. Something practical. Something logical.

I had imagined so many things, but even after three years, I never would have guessed it would be..

A lipstick.

I stared down at the strawberry‑colored lipstick resting in my palm, my brows knitting together. 

First shock then realization set in and then a big smile. 

★

★

[An Altar]

I would be Mrs. Serafina Blackstone.

Three years ago, that was a dream. Now, it was a fucking nightmare.

I stood in front of the man I had once defied my parents for. Roderick.

He stood tall, green eyes gleaming like sharp blades as he smiled widely.

I once thought his suit made with green scales was pretty in a strange way. Now, they were revolting, like the creature they were plucked from.

“Do you, Mr. Roderick Blackstone, take Mrs. Serafina Rabbia as your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest asked.

Through my veil, I glanced at him. The old man trembled, as expected.

Remember how I said Papà had booked everyone who could make a wedding possible except the bride and groom? 

He hadn’t even spared a priest. Roderick had kidnapped one from England.

Hell, the pews were filled with people he had dragged from his home country. 

None from Italy. None from my family.

Vittoria stood beside me, gorgeous in her bridesmaid’s dress. But she wasn’t family. 

Not after what she had done. Not after I had been reborn because of her. Not with this bastard I was about to marry.

I tightened my grip on the bouquet, forcing my bones to remain still. I couldn’t afford to be emotional. I couldn’t afford anger… but that was all I felt.

Roderick and Vittoria might think I was mad. Good. 

They’d find out the truth at the perfect time.

I forced myself to speak. “I do.”

My fists stayed clenched as Roderick lifted my veil.

Even when he leaned in for a kiss, I pushed harder. I kissed him longer.

I kissed him with so much force the cheers from the crowd became meaningless.

Confusion rippled through the onlookers. 

I didn’t care. I leaned closer, wrapping my hands around his neck, pulling his lips to mine.

“S-Serafina… w-wait…!” Roderick stammered, his breaths shallow.

When I finally pulled back, my lips were smeared pink from the strawberry lipstick. 

Roderick was heaving. His chest rose and fell like a storm.

“Oh my God!” Vittoria screamed as she rushed forward.

Roderick crashed to the floor. 

F

His lips swelled to triple their normal size. His eyes bulged, threatening to pop from his sockets. His body trembled, and his neck slumped unnaturally to one side.

“What did you do, Serafina?!” Vittoria shouted, now on her knees, clutching Roderick to her chest.

I stood above them, calm. Slowly, I ran my tongue over my lips.

“Oops. I forgot my groom was deathly allergic to strawberry.”

__