Chapter Seven

"You're late," he said, "to our wedding."

The way you say it as if I couldn't intend to escape angers me! A frown grew on her face with this thought.

"Yes, yes, I'm late." Despite her pursed lips she still sweetly said, "but I made up for it by making arrangements for the wedding singlehandedly. Okay, Sharon did help a tiny little bit. Look, I even bought candles, wine, flowers — aren't I a good wife-to-be?"

Don't you dare get angry and murder me, one could almost hear her silent plea.

But he didn't reply. His eyes never left her as it watched her every movement intently.

She suddenly became self-conscious but that did not deter her. To be honest, it was quite unsettling to be given such unwanted full attention.

She set to work however, setting up and setting up and setting up... all the while still under his watchful gaze!

Phew. Geneva wiped her sweat and checked the time. 7:02pm, it was time to prepare. She took a step back to stare at what she'd spent the rest of the day doing.

Such ugly decorations.

She hurriedly pulled down the curtains to save the rest of the world from the misfortune of even a quick glance at it. Moreover, she did not want anybody to see her having a wedding with thin air. Others can't see him right? Well, that would be a thought for another day.

Hah, now, the bathing problem.

His presence loomed behind her in the dense, heavy air in the room. Geneva turned her head a little bit and nervously sneaked a peak at him using the corner of her eyes. He was still watching her. Oh boy.

Taking in a deep breath, determination flooding her, she walked all the way to the bedroom without turning back. Closing the door, she released her breath. Opening the door by a crack, she peeped through.

Geneva gasped sharply and reflexively closed the door again but with a bang. He was still in that same rigid position but his eyes were directed towards the bedroom door.

He is doing this eerie... thing on purpose right?

Sending the door wide open now, she stepped out looking directly at him. "Ehm, I'm about to uhm, you know, take a bath and stuff. Being a descent uhh ghost *clears throat*..."

His blue eyes were focused on her and nothing else, revealing no emotion or thought whatsoever and his mouth remained mute.

Is he still mad at me?

In the end, that bath was the shortest one of her life.

Geneva came out once again but now with a face deeply highlighted to look like an ebony queen and nails polished nude. She was covered from head to toe in her white lolita wedding gown. A wide hat sat atop her head as a veil covered her face. Her feet were in heels, her fingers in gloves, no skin was left available to the ghost!

Taking in the wicked decorations that she'd spent so much time setting up, Geneva lifted the skirt of her ball gown-like wedding gown and walked to the center of the living room.

She tried her best to redo the crazy pattern that she made on the floor with the already lit scented candles and flower petals of various colours. The more she tried, the worse it became and her heels that kept on crushing the flowers were no joy.

Feeling dejected, she wondered why she had bought those rubbish and wasted her time on them. Ah, because she was trying to suck up to a certain someone and avoid death.

Heaving a sigh, she looked at the said someone. With his arms folded across his chest, he sat as still as before. Whether he was staring at her out of curiosity, mischief or anger, she could not tell. All she knew was that his stone face, his demeanor and the cold aura surrounding him imposed her sight and senses too.

She meekly made some sideways steps to switch off the light and moved to stand in front of him, all the while thinking: this wedding is so disorganised. With an almost mute partner and an inexperienced self that is trying to make things work, it almost seems as if I am the one who eagerly wanted to get married to him.

With the glow from the candles as the only source of light, she stood in front of him and cleared her throat.

"Uhm, there's no priest. Not like, in the world. Of course eh., there are priests but I did not think about getting —oh my! I did not buy any ring *facepalm*. I mean, I would have bought one if I had remembered. No, no, I refuse you from thinking that I half heartedly went about it all... "

Then he stood up and looked down at her. Geneva's eyes widened as they traveled with his face as his body straightened to its full length. Her head was tilted back that her jaw almost pointed towards the ceiling– that is, if they hadn't at that time been slackened with such fierceness that it could have unhung from its hinges.

Who said he was less imposing with the lights off? She had been wrong.

She knew he was tall but to be as tall as, as– how tall was he even? Pinching her thumb and index finger together, she began to measure in the air.

Seven feet?!

No, no, if she was five feet four then he was... she began to measure again and arrived at six feet three. She heaved a sigh, she was going to affirm with the more humane calculation.

Seeing him slowly raise one of his hands toward her veiled face, she immediately took some steps back and began to blabber again. "Yes, no ring is available but we could say our vows and be done. Who says that a wedding cannot go on without a ring?"

There was a slight pause. "No one?," he brought down his hand when she nodded crazily, seemingly abandoning whatever his previous goal was.

Geneva's brows raised in surprise. She hadn't expected him to grace her with his voice any soon. But the new problem now was what vow they were to make?

Could she possibly vow to love a ghost till death did them part? Could death even do them part? For Pete's sake, he was already dead and her death would only bring them closer!

This marriage seemed real every passing minute.

Refusing to think of anything else, she successfully made up a vow of her own. "I take you to be my secretly wedded ghost hubby, to aid and support in all his hunt for his lost memories, until he attains them and leaves me be."

If her parents heard her wedding vow, they'd be so heartbroken that their roles would switch. Her mum would cry out blood and her dad would throw punches the size of a truck.

The ghost who valued words more than gold had yet again decided to remain mute.

Remind me, why am I the active partner in this?!

Her eyes closely scanned him, evaluating this her ghost husband and wondered how his lean nature and incredible height did not mar his physique as he filled his white shirt and black suit pants with acute fitness.