Hassian moved through the Grove like a caged animal, straightening benches that were already perfectly aligned, checking the arch for the fifth—no, sixth—time, running a hand through his hair only to flatten it again. His jaw clenched, shoulders tight, every motion sharp with nervous energy. He looked less like a groom and more like someone preparing to defend Killima from an incoming threat.

“Son.”

The single word cut cleanly through his pacing.

Sifuu stood at the edge of the clearing, wine in hand, wearing an expression softer than her usual smirk. A rare sight, and therefore more effective than a shove.

Hassian froze mid-stride. “What?”

“Calm down.” She stepped closer, laying a quick, grounding hand on his arm. “Everything is perfect. The only thing out of place is you wearing a hole in the grass.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, but his hands still flexed as though they needed something to fix.

“Listen.” Her voice gentled. “Lyra and the girls are on their way. You don’t want to be here when they arrive. Come on—let’s walk down to the lake. Give them room to slip in.”

He hesitated, glancing back at the arch as if it might crumble without his supervision. Then he nodded.

Sifuu’s hand squeezed his arm. “Trust me. The arch will still be here when we get back. And so will she.”

The Talk

They walked toward the water, the afternoon sun glinting gold across the ripples. Hassian stood stiffly beside her, trying—and failing—to focus on the breeze instead of the sweat beading at his collar.

“Alright, son,” Sifuu said, hands on her hips like she was about to launch into a training lecture. “Couple things you need to remember now that you’re about to be a husband.”

Finally—practical advice. Hassian straightened, relieved.

“First: don’t leave your dirty clothes on the floor. She’s not your maid.”

“Of course.”

“Always give her the last bite, even if it’s your favorite.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“And keep her glass full. Wine, tea, water—if she has to get it herself, you’ve already failed.”

He actually managed a faint smile. “Okay.”

“Compliment her often. Every day. Don’t get lazy.”

Another nod.

“This one’s tough but important,” Sifuu continued. “Apologize even when you know you’re right.”

Hassian huffed, resigned. “So… like apologizing for things I did before I even met her?”

“Exactly. And listen when she talks, even if you don’t care. At least look like you do.”

He shifted his weight, the breeze offering no escape. “Mother, I—”

“And bring her chocolate when she’s on her period. No exceptions.”

“…Mother.”

Sifuu didn’t relent. “Foreplay is important. Don’t rush—she’s not a fire you’re trying to stomp out.”

Hassian went crimson. “Mother.”

“And after-cuddles? Sacred. Do not skip them.”

He glanced desperately at the lake.

She leaned in, utterly serious. “And always… always make sure she finishes first.”

He choked on nothing. “Mother.”

“Hassian—do you know where her G-spot is?”

Silence. Even the birds seemed to have stopped to stare.

Off to the side, Chayne coughed loudly into his hand, doing a spectacularly poor job of hiding his laughter.

Hassian’s jaw locked so tight it could have splintered stone. “Mother.”

Sifuu simply smirked. “What? She’d appreciate it.”

Chayne clapped Hassian on the shoulder. “Steady, lad. Ceremony’s about to begin. You’ll survive your mother.”

Hassian wasn’t convinced.

Meanwhile…

The carriage wheels crunched to a stop at the Grove’s edge. Lyra climbed down first, heart pounding as she scanned the path, the gentle mist drifting from the falls.

Saraya, Lexi, Rex, and Simon followed, forming her little procession as they walked the winding trail inward. When the trees parted, Lyra saw everything—the arch, the benches, the waterfall mist weaving through the air. It was more beautiful than she had allowed herself to imagine.

Her breath hitched.

Inside the tent, preparation unfolded quickly.

Lexi brushed and styled Lyra’s hair with nimble fingers, while Saraya applied the finishing touches of makeup, brushing shimmer across her lids. Rex and Simon hovered politely in the background, offering encouragement and handling Lyra’s dress and shoes with reverence.

Lyra swallowed. “Can one of you… check he’s actually here?”

Saraya laughed. “Do you honestly think he’d abandon you at the altar?”

Lyra let out a shaky exhale. “No. Of course not.”

"Where's he got to run anyway? We've got his Grove. Rex added, earning a round of laughs.

The tent flap rustled, and Sifuu stepped inside. She paused, her expression softening into something warm and proud.

“Beautiful,” she said. “The perfect bride. I know you’ll take good care of my boy—and be a wonderful mother someday.”

She pulled Lyra into a firm hug, then murmured, “And always tell him he was great in bed, even if he wasn’t.”

Lyra laughed. “But he always is.”

Sifuu winked. “I love it! A daughter not afraid to say what she thinks.”

Time Stands Still

Hassian moved among the arriving guests, offering stiff nods and tight smiles, though his mind whirled like a storm. Chayne approached, face kind.

“Time, Hassian. Ceremony’s about to begin.”

Hassian swallowed hard and followed him to the arch, Sifuu at his side. The moss muted their steps, each one making his pulse drum faster.

He turned suddenly to Sifuu, panic rising. “Do you—do you have the ring?”

Sifuu tapped her chin theatrically. “Hmm. I knew I forgot something.”

Hassian’s world dropped out from under him.

Then she snorted, pulling the ring from her sleeve. “Relax. It’s right here. Don’t pass out.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “Mother.”

Here Comes the Bride

The procession emerged from the tent.

Lexi scattered petals with a flamboyant flourish.
Saraya followed in a peach dress, posture proud.
Rex and Simon flanked Lyra in their green vests and slacks.
Tau in a tiny bowtie and Kaja in a flowered collar trotting behind them like proud attendants.

And Lyra—

Lyra looked like something out of a prayer Hassian didn’t know he’d been reciting.

Her simple white dress brushed the moss. The roses in her hair glowed softly in the sunlight. Her bouquet trembled slightly in her hands.

She walked, breath unsteady, eyes locked ahead.

At the front, Hassian stood waiting.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to only the two of them.

The moment Lyra’s eyes met his, the nerves in her chest melted into something warm and sure. Her breath hitched, but her steps steadied.

And Hassian—his entire posture broke open. The tension in his shoulders drained away, his jaw softened, and something fierce and unguarded flickered across his face.

He looked at her like she had just stepped out of every hope he’d ever whispered into the dark.

Rex offered Lyra’s hand. “She’s all yours now.”

Hassian’s voice dropped to a reverent, breathless murmur.

“She always was.”

Together they stepped forward—toward Chayne, toward the arch, toward the promise that would bind them. The Grove hushed around them, the mist curling like a blessing.

And finally, everything felt real.