You're My Guilty Pleasure

 PENELOPE

I turned in front of the mirror, once again adjusting the fabric of my delicate wedding dress, a beautiful blue and white creation that seemed to shimmer with every movement. The dress hugged my curves perfectly, the intricate lace and silk flowing elegantly down to the floor. I couldn’t help but smile as I admired how the design highlighted my figure, the soft blue reminding me of serene skies on a perfect day.

 “Looks like someone’s excited,” Fina teased, her voice light and playful as she stepped up behind me, her fingers gently brushing my shoulder.

 Her mischievous green eyes sparkled with amusement, and I felt the warmth of a blush creeping up my neck as I turned to meet her gaze.

 “Don’t tease her, Fin," Mom’s voice echoed softly through the room. I watched as she stepped in, her eyes softening with emotion as she looked at me.

 “Mom!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking slightly with the rush of emotions. I couldn’t contain the overwhelming mix of excitement, nervousness, and love that surged through me.

 I immediately wrapped my arms around her, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of her embrace. Her arms tightened around me, as though trying to hold on to this fleeting moment, knowing how much it meant.

 “I can’t believe my precious Penelope is getting married,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. I could see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes, and my own heart tightened.

 Fina, ever the playful one, rolled her eyes dramatically, covering her ears with a grin, but I could see the affection in her eyes as well.

 Today was the day—the day I had once doubted would ever come. But here I was, standing on the cusp of a new life. It was real, I was going to marry Montelgo—the man who had slowly but surely reshaped my world in ways I never thought possible.

 “Feeling nervous, Pen?” Fina asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. Her voice was gentle, but there was an underlying amusement there.

 I glanced at my reflection again—my wide, questioning eyes staring back at me. Do I look ready to be a bride? The thought swirled in my mind. There were so many "what-ifs" pulling at me. Am I truly ready? I wanted to say yes, but doubt lingered at the edges of my thoughts.

 But no. I couldn’t afford to doubt, not today.

 I had always prided myself on being carefree, fearless. So what had changed?

 A woman of Montelgo is confident in herself.

 Tita Claudia’s words echoed in my mind. She had become like a second mother to me, despite not being my own. Her strength and wisdom had helped shape me into who I was today.

 Mama’s voice brought me back to the present. “Darling, trust yourself. I don’t want my Penelope looking anything less than radiant on her wedding day,” she said, gently brushing my cheek with the tenderness only a mother could possess.

 I smiled, the softest of smiles, my eyes meeting hers.

 Fina, leaning against the couch, caught my gaze and smirked. "We’re ready for this, Pen."

 I turned back to Mama and Fina, gratitude swelling in my chest. “Thank you, Mom, Fin. I couldn’t do this without you both,” I said, the words coming out more emotional than I expected. They had been my rock, the ones who had kept me grounded even in the most uncertain times.

 Fina stepped forward, carefully adjusting my makeup, while Mama began enthusiastically recounting every little detail about the wedding, from the flowers to the guests. Her pride was palpable.

 “Shall we?” Fina asked once everything was in place.

 I nodded, my heart racing in anticipation as I took Fina’s hand. We made our way to the car waiting outside, the sleek black vehicle standing ready to take us to the ceremony. The driver, an older man dressed sharply in his suit, opened the door with an impeccable bow, his demeanor as professional as always.

 I hugged Mom and Fina tightly, savoring the warmth of their love and support as we shared this final moment before I stepped into the car.

 “You’ve got this, Pen,” Fina whispered, her voice full of confidence.

 “Be happy, darling,” Mom added, her smile tender, full of hope.

 “Thank you,” I said softly, before settling into the plush interior of the car. The door closed with a soft thud, sealing me into the quiet bubble of anticipation.

 The car started, and we slowly began to weave through the streets of the city, the rhythm of the wheels a steady reminder of the impending life change. I gazed out the window, the tall buildings and crowded streets passing by, each one a silent witness to my thoughts.

 I had once believed that today would never come. But here I was, almost at the venue.

 My phone buzzed in my clutch bag, and I quickly pulled it out to see a message from Fina.

 Fin: Good luck! I will definitely gulped down your selected wine in venue. ;>

 I chuckled softly. I knew full well there was no selected wine at the venue. What will she do when she finds out?

 The car slowed as we encountered a patch of traffic, and the impatience that had been slowly building inside me flared up again. I glanced at the driver through the rearview mirror, his calm expression in stark contrast to the growing tension I felt.

 “Are you ok ma’am?” he asked politely, concern flickering in his eyes.

 “Yes, I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a small smile, trying to steady myself.

 The traffic eventually cleared, and I took a deep breath, pulling a compact mirror from my clutch bag—Gucci, a gift from Zack—checking my reflection one last time. My makeup was flawless, and though my eyes were clear, I could see the faintest hint of doubt lingering behind them.

 Tucking the mirror away, I turned my gaze back to the passing city streets, lost in thought. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, wasn’t it? Yet the uncertainty gnawed at me.

 As the car made a turn onto a quieter road, I tightened my grip on my bouquet, the soft lace of my veil brushing against my arms, sending a wave of nervous excitement through me.

 And then, suddenly, the car lurched. My heart skipped a beat, and I was thrown forward, the seatbelt pulling tight against my chest.

 “What’s wrong, driver?” I gasped, panic rising in my throat.

 “The car is been jacked, ma’am,” the driver replied, his voice laced with fear.

 The world tilted violently, and before I could react, the car careened toward an oncoming truck. The crash came in an instant—a bone-shaking impact that sent glass flying in every direction.

 Pain exploded in my abdomen as something sharp pierced through me. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my trembling fingers found the shard of glass embedded in my side, blood already spreading beneath my touch.

 Why now? Why today?

 The world around me dimmed as coldness crept in. My vision blurred, and my breath hitched painfully in my throat.

 Is this how it ends?

 Zack, I’m sorry… Your wife can’t make it.

 I coughed weakly, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

 I’m glad I met you. If this is it, I need you to know... I love you, Zack.

 See you soon in heaven, my love.

 When I opened my eyes, a sharp throb pulsed through my head, and my throat felt dry, like I hadn't had a drink in ages. I needed water.

 "Water..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

 I blinked, struggling to focus as the white ceiling above came into view. The sterile, almost blindingly bright lights of the hospital room reflected off the walls. My senses were foggy, and my body felt heavy, like it was still trying to catch up with the present.

 There was a man sitting next to me, his figure partially blocking the soft glow of the hospital lights. He seemed familiar but his face was a blur. I couldn’t place him.

 "Rain... Rain?" His voice was low and smooth, yet there was an unmistakable edge of concern beneath the words. It was almost soothing in its tone, though I couldn’t quite tell why.

 Rain? Is that me? My mind struggled to connect the dots. Is that my name?

 I blinked again, trying to focus more, but the fog of confusion kept clouding my thoughts. The man's face came into sharper focus—a handsome face, chiseled jawline, tousled dark hair, and deep brown eyes that held both warmth and a slight tension, as though he was holding back a storm of emotions. He was definitely a stranger, yet something about him felt familiar.

 He gently reached for a glass of water from the side table, the motion fluid, like he’d done it a million times before. His hands were steady, but there was something guarded in the way he looked at me. He held it out to me, and his eyes softened as they met mine, though the concern in them was still palpable.

 “Drink this,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

 I hesitated, unsure whether I could even hold it steady. He pressed it into my hand, not letting go until I took it from him, his touch warm against my cold skin.

 “Drink,” he repeated, a quiet insistence in his tone that left no room for argument.

 I took a cautious sip, the cool water soothing my dry throat. The liquid slid down smoothly, easing the scratchiness in my throat. It felt like the first real breath I had taken in a long time.

 He took the glass back from me, placing it carefully on the bedside table. His gaze never left my face, studying me with a mix of relief and something deeper—maybe sadness or concern.

 “Who... are you?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly as the words slipped out, as if they were foreign to me. The question didn’t sound like it came from my mouth, and I wasn’t sure if I even had the right to ask it.

 A flicker of pain crossed his features—just a brief flash that I barely caught—but it was enough to make my heart skip a beat. He exhaled slowly, like he had been holding his breath for far too long, and then spoke, his voice soft but laced with undeniable emotion.

 “I’m your husband, Alex,” he said quietly, his words sinking into me like a stone in still water.

 “And you’re Rain. My wife.”