Bride No Veil Novels & Stories

"Coming from the woman who stepped into her sister's wedding without being asked." I went still. "You didn't hesitate," he said. "You stood up in that vestry and you offered yourself as a replacement bride and you told everyone it was about the covenant and the company and your father's face." He looked at me steadily. "And maybe it was. But you also couldn't stop thinking about the man at the altar. The one you had fucked and walked away from. The one who stopped that ceremony when he saw you. And you knew it. And you did it anyway."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hit me like a slap. My hands shook inside the white lace gloves as Alexander Voss slid the heavy gold band onto my finger. Not Sophia's. Mine. I forced a smile for the hundreds of eyes watching us. The cathedral smelled of expensive flowers and even more expensive perfume. Cameras flashed nonstop. "You may kiss the bride," the officiant said with a proud smile. Alexander leaned in. His grey eyes locked on mine for the first time up close. For one second I thought he might actually do it. Then something shifted in his face. His jaw tightened. He pressed a quick, cold kiss to my cheek instead.

A radiant smile graced the father's face, showing both pride and a profound sense of joy. The bride's gown, a masterpiece of artistry, seemed to possess an ethereal quality. Adorned with vibrant jewel tones, accented with delicate fur trims, and meticulously embroidered in gold and silver, it exuded an air of enchantment. The careful selection of colors created a mesmerizing unity, a visual symphony that harmonized with the atmosphere of love and celebration. A simple yet elegant veil delicately covered the bride's face, adding an air of mystery and anticipation to her arrival.

“Of course, go… go.” “Lyssa, what the hell kind of hairspray did you use on my hair?” Becca reached to scratch behind her ear. “It itches.” “I just need five minutes in the mirror—” Lyssa stopped, finger pointed. “Becca Louise Duran! I worked too hard to get a natural look that can resist the gale force winds off this damn beach, so you will sit on your hands if you get the urge to touch. At least until after pictures.” Terez laughed at the young woman as she carefully fitted the veil amid the sophisticated curls framing Becca’s face and neck, letting the sheer fabric fall in floaty layers to the bride’s shoulders.

The wedding proceedings had just commenced. Yasmin stood gazing at herself in the mirror unable to comprehend that this was her, her dreaded fate had dawned in on her at its core, her heart was thumbing faster than usual. Soon she would leave this place she had called home for the last twelve years. Soon her childhood, her youthfulness her untried dreams, her innocence would just be a past memory in her mind and the minds of those who love her. She had vowed to never capitulate to meeting the same fate as her sister Nadia; she had sworn to never let that happen to her, but now her final big day had come. So was Harrans who was now in the toilet sobbing and throwing up her breakfast. She came

That was last night and that's the last encounter they had before this wedding. The sound of the media outside her bridal car brought her back to reality. She pulled out a frustrated sigh looking outside the window of the car. She was wearing a White strapless ball gown with exquisite floral lace that fantastically hugged her gorgeous body. Her taut sexy breast emphasized the dress she wear. She maybe looked like a princess with a tiara atop on the elegantly braided hair of her covered with white veil. She remembered the superstitious belief that if the bride is wearing a white veil covering her face in her wedding, that simply means she was a virgin bride. That she was inexperienced, innoce

They didn’t respond. Then, the Bride appeared, moving gracefully. She circled Camela like a hunter stalking its prey. “You will wear it. The real question is: will it be white… or red?” Camela forced herself to meet her gaze. “If I refuse?” The Bride’s veil fluttered slightly. “Then the choice will be made for you.” The masked women stepped back. The Bride reached out, touching Camela’s cheek. Her fingers were as cold as ice. “Do you want him to live?”

“Besides, if I thought that what you were doing was wrong, I wouldn’t be here. Now chin up. I hear the music start.” Some random girls from the Kingdom are acting as my bridesmaids. I don’t even know them but I am grateful. Katy comes rushing in the room. Before I can get a word out, she pulls the comb out. She has left most of my hair down, in soft waves. She has the sides pulled up into a braid, twisted up to form a crown made of hair. She take the veil, a golden color, and pins it to the braids. “We don’t want him to pass out before you get to him.” She chuckles as she pulls the veil over my face.

It was a masterpiece of French lace and satin, heavy and regal, designed to make a statement. Elena Drakov sat in a high-backed chair a few feet away, watching the process with the critical eye of a general inspecting troops. "The veil needs to be longer," Elena commanded, not looking up from her tablet. "It needs to trail at least three feet behind the train. A Drakov bride doesn't walk into a room; she arrives." The seamstress nodded frantically, scribbling notes.

Two weeks before my wedding to Wendy Sutton, she gets a marriage certificate with someone else. That day, a screenshot from an unfamiliar group chat suddenly pops up in our wedding-planning group. The group is named "No One Stays Young Forever". A photo of Wendy and her new husband, Shiloh Caddel, is posted. They are beaming as they hold up the marriage certificate they've just obtained. Her brother asks, "You made sure Morgan doesn't know, right? Don't let this affect the wedding plans." My best friend replies, "Don't worry, he's still waiting for Wendy to come back so she can try on her wedding makeup." Her best friend chimes in, "They're only registering the marriage to make up for a