Chapter 18: Wedding at the church
Finally, the wedding day arrived, and the air inside the Belmont house buzzed with anticipation. Ruelle, her hands steady despite the quiet strain she felt in her chest, carefully fastened the last button on Caroline's wedding gown. The fabric was soft under her fingers.
Caroline stood before the mirror, her reflection glowing purely from excitement and the gown she wore. But beneath the poised exterior, she was fidgeting, her hands constantly reaching for her veil as if adjusting it.
"Is the veil sitting properly?" Caroline fretted, her fingers tracing the fabric cascading over her shoulders, which wasn't as sheer as she had wanted. "I feel like it's too far back," she said, followed by a slight cough. It seemed she had caught a little cold.
Ruelle, who had spent the entire morning attending to every minute detail of her sister's appearance, smiled softly. She had become accustomed to Caroline's perfectionism, the need for every detail to be flawless. Yet, in her sister's fussing, there was something familiar and endearing, something that made her feel needed. She reassured her with a gentle tone,
"It's exactly where it's supposed to be. Once the veil comes down, you'll see. It's perfect, Caroline. Just like everything else."
"I hope so," Caroline murmured. She stood a little straighter and let out a breath. "I've been counting down the days and hours. And now... soon I'll be married! Can you believe it?" Her voice suddenly brightened with excitement, a rush of joy replacing her earlier tension.
"I can," Ruelle replied, her smile widening as she knelt down to adjust the hem of Caroline's gown one last time, smoothing out invisible creases. "In less than an hour, you'll be standing at the altar, and everything will be exactly as you dreamed."
As Ruelle rose to her feet, Caroline turned to her, placing a soft hand over Ruelle's. Her younger sister said, "Thank you for being here today, Ruelle. You're the best sister. I'll miss you so much, but I promise, I'll visit Papa, Mama, and you on weekends."
Ruelle forced a smile, though her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the words she could never say. She replied quietly, "Of course."
Her gaze drifted to the mirror again, but this time it wasn't Caroline's reflection she saw—it was the memory of Ezekiel's arms around her, having mistaken her for Caroline. The guilt pressed down on her, heavy because in their world—where propriety meant everything—what had happened was wrong, even if unintended.
That fleeting, mistaken embrace felt like an invisible mark that no one else knew about—but she did. In a society where a woman's reputation could be ruined by a mere misunderstanding, the weight of what had happened gnawed at her conscience.