Chapter 40
The sky wore a dusky lavender veil, strewn with golden brushstrokes as if the universe had hand-painted the day for something extraordinary. Beneath an endless canopy of fairy lights and fluttering silk ribbons, an outdoor garden bloomed in ethereal elegance. Roses, baby’s breath, orchids—each petal whispered secrets of love through the warm, honey-sweet breeze. Strings of violins danced gently in the background, the kind of melody that tugs at the soul before a single word is spoken.
Freen stood still near the floral arch, her tailored cream tux hugging every graceful line of her frame, her hair swept back into a soft bun with loose strands dancing in the wind. Her eyes weren’t on the arch, or even on the aisle. They were locked on one person.
Becky.
Wearing an off-shoulder ivory gown with a blush undertone that shimmered like moonlight when she moved, Becky looked like the person the stars had been trying to write about for centuries. Her hair flowed in waves, pinned slightly back with pearls, and her eyes sparkled more than the diamond necklace resting against her collarbone—a necklace Freen had given her, the one that says “Forevermore”
“You’re staring again,” Becky whispered out of the corner of her mouth, not looking at her, but smiling.
“I’ve been staring for a whole year now,” Freen murmured back. “I’m not planning to stop today.”
But just before anyone could tear up thinking vows were about to be exchanged, a familiar voice cut through the ambient music like a record scratch.
“Uh-uhm, Wait, wait, hold up.” Nam slid beside them, fanning herself dramatically. “You both look like you’re about to get married—you're not the ones walking down the aisle today, alright, so chill you two”
Kade plopped into the seat on the other side, stuffing her mouth with macarons. “Yeah, but they are acting like the stars of the show.”
Freen and Becky looked at each other and burst into soft laughter. They didn’t deny it. How could they, when just being near each other felt like the world conspired to write love stories around them?
Nam leaned in again, smirking. “So, what is it by the way? FreenBeck or BeckFreen?”
Freen raised a brow. “BeckFreen? That sounds like a toothpaste brand.”
Becky gasped. “Excuse me? FreenBeck sounds like a legal firm!”
They turned to each other closing the distance coz they can’t even argue a bit without loving a lot, simultaneously said:
“It’s definitely FreenBeck.” becky in a hushed tone.
“No way, it’s BeckFreen and it will always stay like that.” Freen said shyly.
Nam rolled her eyes. “Okay, bye, We’re leaving them to argue at their fake wedding. Annoying gfs”
Kade and Nam laughed and walked off, leaving the two tangled in playful bickering.
But before more chaos ensued, the hush of awe spread through the crowd like ripples in still water. The music swelled. The guests rose.
From the back of the aisle, two women stood tall—hands linked, eyes glistening with unshakable pride. One wore a dazzling crimson gown, embroidered in gold with their family crest altered to a new symbol: two hearts intertwined. The other wore a champagne-colored long veil dress that shimmered with every step, her silver hair woven with pink orchids.
Gasps and murmurs fluttered in the crowd. Cameras clicked like falling rain.
Grandma, the matriarch of royal blood—respected, feared, admired—was getting married to her lifelong companion, Namorantara, in front of the entire world.
No secrets. No shame. Just love.
When they reached the altar, Grandma took the mic. She held it like she held her truth—with elegance and power.
“I’ve lived decades hiding a love that deserved to shine. Today, I refuse to let the next generation live in fear or shadows. I come out not for applause... but for freedom. For every child watching this, wondering if they’re wrong for who they love—my answer is no. Love makes you right. Love is never the mistake.”
The crowd stood frozen in time. Then applause erupted—rolling, thunderous, unstoppable. Tears spilled. Even the sky turned softer, streaked with warm pinks and golds, as if heaven itself was clapping.
Grandma and Namortana stood beneath the floral arch, fingers entwined like vines grown resilient through every storm. The hush that settled over the garden felt sacred—like the world had paused to listen. Their eyes locked, two stories of strength and survival, pain and pride, now finally allowed to be told in full light.
Namortana’s voice trembled with emotion as she spoke first.
“I’ve loved you in silence, in shadows, in stolen glances and unfinished letters. But today, I vow to love you in sunrises, in headlines, in loud laughter and long mornings. No more hiding. No more waiting.”
Grandma’s lips quivered as she returned the vow, her usual regal composure melting into tenderness.
“For lifetimes, I wore a crown heavy with duty, but never once did it weigh more than the love I carried for you. Today, I let go of silence and pick you, loudly, for the rest of our days.”
A gentle breeze swept through the aisle, almost as if the trees themselves sighed in relief. Then—softly, slowly—they leaned in and sealed their vows with a kiss. Not rushed, not hesitant—just two hearts finally meeting where they belonged.
The crowd erupted. A standing ovation. Cheers, tears, camera flashes—like the whole world had been waiting for this moment. And perhaps it had.
Because right then, under a sky blushed in hues of soft rebellion, the world witnessed love rewrite its rules.
And in that kiss—unapologetic and full of grace—the universe stood still, bowed its head, and smiled.
Becky gripped Freen’s hand under the table.
“She’s so damn cool,” Freen whispered.
“She’s a revolution in heels,” Becky replied, her voice shaky. “I love her.”
“She’s my grandma.”
“I still love her.”
They both laughed, misty-eyed.
And then, just as Grandma and Namoratara exchanged vows with trembling voices and forever in their eyes, Freen gently leaned in, whispering into Becky’s ear,
“One day... it’ll be us.”
Becky looked at her, the vow already written in her eyes. Give a quick peck on freen’s lips
“Soon.” she said proudly.
The camera panned wide, catching the sea of proud faces, the banners of celebration, the confetti, the new family crest waving in the wind—this wasn’t just a wedding. This was history.
A new chapter.
A bold love.
A sacred promise.
And just as the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting the world in that magic hour glow, the final line wrote itself:
And so, under a blushing sky where truth finally danced free, a promise was made—not just to each other, but to the world—that love, in all its forms, is worth the fight. Always.
_______________
The End!!