Beautiful Bride By Flyleaf Novels & Stories

Perfect for a fairytale wedding but it felt like my funeral. I stood at the arched entrance to the garden path, that opened towards rows of perfectly trimmed hedges stretching endlessly. The strategically placed ponds shimmered in the sunlight with the occasional ripple of koi fish breaking to the surface. The soft strains of the wedding match drew me to the present and in unison, the guests turn their heads to stare at me in awe. I clutch the calla lilies to my bosom and look away from their scrutinizing stares. Taking an unsteady step forward, my gaze drifted to Adriko, standing beneath a grand floral arch waiting for me.

I had sat on the couch, crying until my eyes were swollen, questioning myself. Was I really being too sensitive? Was I really just petty? Then, half an hour later, I scrolled past Owen's Instagram. It was a photo of him and Teresa holding hands with their faces pressed close together at the airport. The caption read, "The pretty lady who sponsored me for years intentionally picked a fight with her boyfriend just to take me to see the aurora. What do you guys think? Don't we look more like a couple?"

“She doesn’t have long left. We just wanted her to have her wish.” “I know,” Luca replied, his voice softening. “That’s why I agreed to the ceremony. But Bianca is innocent. You don’t get to hurt her.” Another pause. “Try to do it again,” he warned quietly, “and I won’t forgive it.” My heart tightened. My suitcase slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. So, this wedding— the wedding I poured my heart into— had been nothing but a lie. Never meant for me at all. I covered my mouth to stifle a sob, but the tears came anyway.

Because I knew my fate might be worse than those oysters'. I opened the letter with trembling hands. Sure enough, no matter how graceful Sarah's handwriting tried to be, it couldn't mask my mother's wrath boiling beneath the lines. Switching grooms without notice—Strike One. Running off and getting married on my own—Strike Two. Then vanishing without a word to the family—Strike Three. The kind you don't come back from. By the time I reached the end, where Blake was frowning hard at the page, a strange sense of calm settled over me.

“My bare feet touch the ground after a long day of riding on horseback. The village is small and quaint, which is to be expected, considering the losses from the war. Both our people and theirs had suffered greatly, but today would end that suffering. The village leaders had spoken through letters, and it was agreed that the daughter of their leader would marry me to end the war between our two tribes. I have been told of her great beauty, yet I have not witnessed it. Some say that her hair color is light, which is not a common occurrence, but it is happening more frequently than it did previously. She is youthful and carries herself well. I had also been told that her smile is as bright as

Air refused to fill my lungs properly. She walked forward, her heels clicking against the floor in that specific rhythm I had once found beautiful and came to a stop directly in front of me. “You gave me everything.” Her voice dropped lower. “Your trust. Your heart. Your future. Your money.” A laugh slipped out of her. “I suppose fools will always be fools.” Her voice multiplied. Layered over itself until it filled every corner of the room and pressed against the inside of my skull. “And you still haven’t learned.” She leaned in close, her breath cold against my ear, carrying the faint scent of the sweet cookies I used to buy for her every Friday. “You think you are different now? Stronger?

Guests whispered in awe, their eyes unable to look away from the radiant bride who floated in her gown like a vision, and the groom who stood tall and regal, a living portrait of aristocratic grace. As Luke Rivers walked Mia down the aisle, his chest swelled with pride. Maurice’s gaze never wavered; the moment he caught sight of his bride, he was struck breathless. She was ethereal, too beautiful, too dazzling, as though fate had sculpted her just for this moment. When Luke placed Mia’s delicate hand into his, Maurice held it with surprising intensity. His grip was both firm and reverent, as though she were a fragile treasure he dared not lose.

Her veil, intricately embroidered, cascaded down her back like a gentle waterfall. The bridesmaids Abigail and Shelley , in soft pastels, walked gracefully down the aisle, followed by the flower girl, scattering petals with innocent delight. Isabella took a deep breath, the scent of roses and fresh pine mingling in the air. Sebestian stood beside her, a proud smile on his face, as they began their slow walk down the aisle. Each step echoed with significance, memories of a lifetime leading to this moment. She was overwhelmed by the fact that she was no longer going to stay with her parents.

Starlia had sent her a copy of the newspaper. "Saves me the stress of going out" she mumbled as she carried the paper, the headline had her choking on her spit, she hadn't anticipated It to be this hot and she mentally thanked her stars that she had at least finished her breakfast before this or she might have not been able to stomach anything at the sight before her. She read the caption aloud, "Lovebirds:Billionai­re Bachelor in a passionate kiss with his soulmate". She scoffed, " lovebirds, soulmate, how pathetic" she glanced at the picture on the front page.

Lia yells. They both rush me at once. “Congratulations, June!” “Thank you,” I laugh, a little overwhelmed. Kayla checks her watch. “Okay. It’s time. June, it’s time to walk down the aisle.” My heart stutters. I turn to Leila. “Will you walk me?” Her smile is soft and steady. “Of course I will.” _____ The doors open. Not with a sound or music, just the wind. A soft breeze rolls through the buckwheat field, carrying the warm, honeyed scent of grain and sun and earth. Tall stalks sway like they’re bowing, pale and golden under the early light. The sky above is endless blue, so wide it makes my chest ache.