Denver’s POV
After several days of preparation where the sun has witnessed, I can finally be bound in marriage to my beloved Wisdom.
There were numerous nights that I often thought, wondered, and feared in case of what the unknown caller told us.
It was hair-raising and very much a thing to be afraid of. I fear Wisdom’s safety as well as mine. What if that caller will literally make it happen? What if Wisdom and I will never get a chance to see each other as a married couple? What if—
‘You attract what you fear…’ those words echoed in my mind. Though I don’t want to think of those things, I still think of those thoughts because of this fearful heart.
“Congrats, Denver!” My heart leaped when it was Dyana who said that, treading towards me with her deep purple off-shoulder dress.
“It hasn’t yet started. The wedding,” I spoke in a bland manner.
“What I mean is that congrats for easily getting out of my grip and being able to find your shelter in the arms of Wisdom.”
I tried to open my mouth but closed it again.
“Kidding!” Dyana Stevens laughed. And so I also did, in a nervous way.
“Uhm, Dyana…” Then she hugged me.
“Congratulations, Mikhail,” she breathed in my ears. Her hug was warm though. I felt like a puppy that had been given a warm blanket by my owner. “Just be careful.” That was the last thing she muttered to me before disappearing in the foliage and into the wedding area.
I was left standing behind, processing what Dyana, my former sex giver, said to me. And did to me.
That hug…it was different. It was warm and friendly and not a hint of sarcasm or anger behind that hug.
And her last words…‘Just be careful…’
What does that mean? Be careful of what? To what? For what?
I turned my gaze to the back, to where the noise of the guests were coming from. I looked to my side and saw Henry Harker, my artist bestfriend and the best man of this wedding. He beamed at me and I just gave him a tight nod before strolling away from his sight.
I still feel nervous, especially when Wisdom was still preparing.
I want our wedding, my special day, to be immensely special; memorable and delightful. Full of smiles and tears of joy, cheering and clapping, glass clinking and utensils clanking.
I want everything to be perfect since this is the day that I will be born again—that I will soon enter the life of a married man. That I shall be discarding the past vices and frailty of mine.
I will no longer bed another woman. I will no longer be seeing another woman. I will no longer remember my past love (or lust) interests.
“Denver,” mom looked at me from head to toe. “Are you freaking alright? You look worried and you’re sweating.”
“Mom, everybody sweats…”
“But you are sweating heavily,” my brows furrowed.
“Yes but—“
“Honey…” Dad whispered something to mom. I was left assessing the place, the clouds, the wind. Just checking if someone is suspicious or might be the stalker threatening us.
But the only one suspicious I see is Gerry Grace, my bride’s former boss and predator.
I applaud the decoration and aesthetics of our garden wedding though. The tidy red carpet, the fresh flowers, the aromatic scent of the air that is so sweet and calming which smells like lemon and lavender. The attendees are mostly Wisdom and mine’s acquaintances, as well as mom and dad’s.
I don’t know if I should be excited but…what if that is just a prank call.
“Denver?”
I can’t stay focused on smiling and urging happiness to fill the void of my soul and the hollowness of my heart on MY wedding day.
‘Get married and you will never be able to see your bride on your wedding day,’ I remembered.
“Denver!” My father, Ezra, bellowed—making all the people, including Dyana and Gerry, stared at me.
“Huh?”
“You’re daydreaming—on your wedding day.”
“Am I, dad?”
“You fucking are!” We called you over five times and we are just standing here in front of you!”
“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Wisdom,” I said softly.
“You—“
“Enough, honey,” mom stepped in front of dad. “Your son is just having his normal wedding anxiety.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“You can. Perhaps you forget that during our wedding, you pee on your pants during the wedding vows because you might mess it up.” Mom, who secretly winked at me, clenched dad’s face and they both vanished before my sight.
“Breathe, Denver. Breathe.” I shook my hand and my fingers to alleviate myself from shaking and fear.
“Breathe, Denver. Breathe,” I repeated to myself before preparing myself for the start of the wedding ceremony.
***
Wisdom’s POV
Thank heavens the wedding went well.
Denver is stuttering subtly earlier during the wedding vows but I’m glad he’s now doing good.
My champagne glass is shaking, thanks to my unsteady fingers.
Our wedding colors—jewel tones—comprises of emerald greens, plush plums and deep purples. It perfectly suits the ambience well since the groom and the bride are in mixed emotions and are still traumatized by that freaking stalker call days ago.
I tried to brush it all off and buried it in my mind archives, which I am pretty sure what Denver is doing as well.
But every time I push myself to enjoy this day and have fun and put a smile on my grumpy face, the caller’s voice played on its own in my mind: ‘Get married and you will never be able to see your groom on your wedding day, ’
“Wisdom!” I looked behind and I saw Henry Harker on a wine-red tuxedo beaming at me.
“Henry!” I then hugged him with a sweet grin.
“Congratulations to you.”
“Thank you.”
But Henry’s face immediately shifted.
‘What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There is something I need to tell you.” But before I could voice a reply, he already dragged me behind the foliage.
I tried to remain calm and postured. “What is it?”
“It’s about Denver,” he murmured.
“What about him?” I tried to sneak behind the greenery and saw him, casually talking and drinking wine with the guests in this lush wedding reception.
“He hugged Dyana.”
I whipped my head to him with a serene face, masking my astonished face with a wide beam and flattering eyelashes. “So?”
‘Don’t waste your tears for something you have done without free will. I want you to know that those pigs are pushing us to our own grave, using us as a puppet of our own downfall. The more you allow them to ruin your life—our life—the higher we have a chance to descend faster into that pit of insanity.’ Those words reverberated in my thoughts as Henry Harker stared at me.
“You don’t have to worry about him,” I added. “He’s a loyal wolf. And I have witnessed it several times.”
He just grimaced at me. “You seem to be pretty in love.”
“You bet I am!” Then we laughed, loudly. I heard someone approaching so I remained composed but smiling.
“Wisdom,” Denver slid his hand to my waist.
“Oh hi, love!” I kissed him on the cheeks. Henry seemed to blush upon seeing us this intimate. “Your friend, Henry, said that you and Dyana have hugged earlier. I bet she congratulated you in advance, didn’t she?”
Denver seemed to be dazed; his cheeks warmed. “Oh Dy—yeah, she did.” He was stuttering again and that made me narrowed my eyes.
“I'd better be going now, Wisdom. Denver. Congratulations once again!” The leaves rustled as Henry passed between them.
“You’re shaking, Denver.”
His eyes went wide. “Your hands are cold, Wisdom.”
Our eyes met and I realized that…that we are still thinking of that threat even when the sun has sunk and the night has awoken in our beautiful and elegant wedding reception.
“We better be heading back now,” I breathed.
And we did.