PaetynRaya bursts into Ace’s apartment with her usual cheerful energy. “Good morning, future Mrs. Dante,” she teases, carrying a notebook filled with fabric swatches, color palettes, and magazine clippings. I laugh, letting her settle on the couch, and pour us both coffee. “We have a lot to do today,” she says, flipping open the notebook. “Flowers first,” I say. “I want champagne, coral, white, and light pink everywhere. My bouquet, the centerpieces, everything.”She nods, smiling. “Soft, feminine, and classic. Nothing that will compete with your gown.” She clicks her pen. “And speaking of the gown, I can't wait to finally go dress shopping today.”I laugh again, feeling the nervous thrill rise in my chest. Planning the wedding has been one thing, but picking my dress? That feels like a fairytale come true. We spend the next hour jotting down ideas, flipping through magazines, circling items in corals, blushes, and creams. By late morning, we head out to the boutique. I trail beh
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