Clara
It still seems strange, beautiful, exciting. And yet… strange.
I'm sitting in the living room with an open notebook on my lap, a now-cold cup of tea beside me, and a charming woman across from us talking about flowers, venues, fabrics, menus, and guest lists.
A wedding planner, my wedding planner.
Again…
I still can't believe it.
The house is bright with morning sunlight. Everything smells of freshly brewed coffee and those discreet candles that Ethan insists on lighting in every corner because he says they make the house feel warmer.
He's sitting next to me, impeccable as always, but more relaxed than at any business meeting. His arm is resting behind me on the sofa, barely brushing my shoulders from time to time. And each touch reminds me of something simple… we're ok
