In the Arms of the Enemy’s Brother
Roman’s fingers wrapped around mine instantly, holding on like he didn’t want to let go.
Up close, his eyes shone, and I could feel the warmth of him, steady and grounding.
“You take my breath away,” he whispered. I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “You too,” I whispered back. “Let’s do this.”
The officiant, a kind-faced woman named Elena, smiled warmly at us. “Dearly beloved,” she began, her voice calm and clear as it carried through the garden. Birds chirped softly in the background, and a gentle breeze moved through the trees. The guests sat quietly, all eyes on us, the air filled with anticipation.