My Barefoot Wedding Novels & Stories

Honest. Earned. My first wedding had been grand. Expensive. Planned down to the last crystal glass. This one was simple. Intentional. We arranged it near a small beach not far from the farm. The sand was pale and soft, the sea stretching endlessly under the afternoon sun. White wooden chairs were placed in gentle rows. Wildflowers lined the aisle instead of extravagant arrangements. The sound of waves replaced orchestras. The breeze replaced air-conditioning. I didn’t invite my mother or father.

“I guess we should go. Little Bob’s wife and daughters have been after you all week to ensure you’ll be there. “Let me put my shoes on while you go make sure Dillon is ready,” Lindsay told him as he let go of her. Wren let out a deep sigh and replied, “Fine, are you going to wear heels?” “No, it’s an outdoor wedding. Heels aren’t exactly good for that,” she answered, smiling as she walked to the closet and pulled out a pair of flats. “Besides, heels and I rarely get along, so I would rather not tempt fate. “Darn, heels make your legs look even better, but then again, you don’t want to upstage the bride,” he said, smiling at her.

The wedding was simple, which is exactly what I wanted. It was held in the gardens of Sabrebite, overlooking the changing colors of the autumn leaves. The full moon was at the peak of the sky, shining its essence on the events taking place below. Leaves of reds and oranges were scattered across the cobblestone walkway and crunched under my bare toes as I walked down the aisle.

One year later The ranch was made up beautifully and it had a festive air dancing on the slight breeze. Kara stood facing Mat barefoot in a light white wedding dress while he spoke his vows to her in front of their closest friends and family. They had decided on an intimate wedding on the small beach near the waterfall. It seemed fitting to close the circle of their first meeting by getting married in the same place.

In that leaking, shabby apartment, he held me and spun around in circles, like he was trying to shake off all the pressure in his life. Under the dim light, smelling of alcohol, he whispered in my ear, "Jeannie, marry me. I promise I'll take care of you forever. Your whole family will live a good life because of me." I said yes. The wedding was painfully simple. No banquet. No luxury cars. We did not even have proper wedding photos. Both families just sat together and had a basic meal. Nash wore a cheap rented suit, sweating from nervousness. When he slipped that plain, unimpressive ring onto my finger, his eyes were red.

Her life would never be the same again. Three days later— The wedding happened quietly inside a private chapel owned by the Monteverde family. No grand decorations. No smiling guests. No romance. It looked more like a business meeting than a wedding. Ariana stood near the altar wearing a simple white dress provided by Damien’s assistant. The fabric was beautiful. Elegant and expensive. But she felt nothing while wearing it. No excitement, no happiness. Only fear.

She looked at their smiling faces, and her heart began to sink. They had a beach wedding, somewhere in a private resort owned by Van’s friend. She was wearing a gorgeous Greek-style white dress that reached her feet, while he wore a white polo shirt and vanilla-colored khaki shorts. They were both barefoot, and behind them was the beautiful sunset on the ocean’s horizon. They looked so happy and in love—who would have thought their marriage would fall apart in just one year? Her throat suddenly contracted, and her eyes watered next. She felt regret, and the pain continued. And in that moment, she couldn’t help but remember the day they first met.

Leah’s POV If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be barefoot, wrapped in a white robe, sipping coconut water from a bamboo straw while my husband grilled seafood under a palm tree, I’d have laughed, in fact, argued about it with everything I had. But here I was—in paradise with Alexander Darlington, my husband, my heart, and the man who never let me forget how deeply I was loved. We had flown to Bora Bora two days after the wedding. Just the two of us. There were no assistants, no schedules, no family group chats interrupting our peace.

There were only two pianists and one violinist beside the altar, playing a classic romantic tune as background music. It was a close and intimate wedding. Not what I had in mind for a grand wedding with a luxurious designer dress or shoes. I wore my mother’s wedding dress with a little bit of modification, adding tulles and laces here and there. I even bought the white wedding shoes from a thrift shop down the block. None of it could be called a celebrity wedding, but it was so much better because there wouldn’t be any haters screaming harassments or paparazzi’s flashing cameras.

... The wedding was set for the 28th of next month. A bit rushed, but not crazy. I hadn't seen Ezio since that video call. Harriet told me he was grinding through work to clear his schedule for the wedding and honeymoon. I wasn't sure if I bought it. I kept hearing about Desmond through friends. He and Megan posted a couple's photo online, then deleted it a week later. A friend vented, "I bet he's trying to get your attention. Guys like that are immature, thinking they can make you jealous with that."