Flowers spilled everywhere, draping over archways, bursting from pots, weaving around the railings. Every hue under the sky was reflected back at me in blossoms that glowed under the tender hand of the setting sun. The rays kissed every petal until they shimmered as if painted in molten gold. It was as if the earth itself had conspired with the pack to celebrate this day, this love. The air hummed with something sacred, a warmth that clung to my skin and seeped into my bones. I could feel it—the love of my people, the joy of this moment, the blessing of something greater than us all.
And then… my gaze found him.
At the end of the aisle, standing tall and unshakable, was Stan.
My heart stopped.
He didn’t need flowers or colors or the golden light of sunset to make him beautiful. He was
