Chapter 1:- "i guess I have to be"
The veil felt heavier than it should have.
It dragged at her scalp with every breath, the pins dug into her hair like tiny teeth. The lace, soft to the touch just days ago, now scratched at her shoulders like a cruel joke.
The dress wasn’t much better.
It clung to her body like a corset, the boning pressing into her ribs until every inhale felt like resistance. The neckline was bold—elegant to everyone else, suffocating to her. She couldn’t bend, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without feeling like she was about to split in two.
Zoey had picked it out with glowing eyes and endless excitement. “This one,” she had said, clasping Amaya’s hands. “This is the one. No one will even blink—they’ll be too busy admiring you.”
Amaya had nodded then, too tired to argue, too unsure to choose for herself.
Now she wanted to beat her with the bouquet. Or cry. Or both.
The lace itched. The train tangled at her feet. The dress was a beautiful cage, and she was supposed to smile through it.
“Posture, Amaya!” Meera scolded from behind her. “You can’t stumble on your own dress. You’ll be walking on petals, not a runway.”
Amaya exhaled sharply. “I can barely walk without slicing my lungs in this thing.”
Meera crouched behind her to fix the hem, smoothing it with careful hands. “You look beautiful,” she said with a softer tone. “And that’s what matters. He’s going to lose it when he sees you.”
Amaya didn’t reply.
With one last glance at the veil, Meera rose. “Alright. I’ll check on the others. Don’t touch your hair. Don’t cry. And don’t fall.” She gave a wink, then slipped out the door.
Silence rushed in.
Alone, Amaya turned back to the mirror.
She studied the girl standing there—poised, polished, every detail in place. The lace sleeves hugged her arms delicately, the dress flaring out from her hips with a dramatic grace. The floral embroidery down the train shimmered faintly in the soft light. Her hair was twisted into an elegant updo, a few curled strands framing her face. Her lips were painted a soft rose. Her eyes... unsure.
She looked beautiful.
And she didn’t recognize herself.
A laugh caught in her throat, half-hollow. “This isn’t real,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”
She touched the edge of the mirror, almost needing to feel something solid.
How did I even get here?
Three names floated in her chest like echoes.
Jake — her first heartbreak, the fire that taught her what it meant to burn and bleed.
Daniel — her comfort, her quiet, her constant.
Seongji — her softness, her stillness, her surprise.
Three boys. Three different versions of her heart.
But one of them was waiting at the end of the aisle.
And she still couldn’t believe this was happening.
A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts.
“Ameya?” Her father’s voice, gentle and unsure. “You ready, sweetheart?”
Her throat tightened.
She took one last look at her reflection.
“I guess I have to be.”
