Katya stands behind them. She looks beautiful too. Dark hair swept up, lips painted soft rose, the fabric of her dress fallingperfectly over her body. She smiles when our eyes meet. “You look like a Volkov already,” she says.
I smile back.
The photographer herds us out into the side garden for pictures before the ceremony. The light is good there, soft under the trees, with the lake visible behind the stone terrace. We pose with bouquets, with champagne glasses, with our arms around each other like we are girls from a world where women only ever wish each other well.
“Closer,” the photographer says. “Katya, move next to the bride.”
Katya steps beside me and slips her arm around my waist. Her perfume is sweet. Familiar. I keep my smile fixed.
Click.
“Beautiful.”
Click.
“Anya, look over your shoulder.”
Click.
“Perfect.”
For twenty minutes, I’m kissed, adjusted, praised, and arranged. My veil is lifted. My flowers are tilted. Someone fixes a loose curl near my cheek. Everyone keeps saying I look calm.
I am not calm.
Dmitri still hasn’t texted. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. He’s here somewhere. He has to be. The guests are arriving. The flowersare paid for. The Volkovs do not humiliate themselves in public. Not like that.
After the photos, Lena notices the clasp on my bracelet has twisted. “Hold still,” she says, fumbling with it. “It’s stuck.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’ll show in the photos.”
Irina laughs softly. “Let the bride breathe, Lena.”
I look down at the bracelet. It was a gift from Dmitri. Diamonds, delicate and cold against my wrist. The clasp slips loose completely and falls into the grass.
“Oh no,” Lena says.
“I saw where it went,” Irina says, crouching carefully so she doesn’t ruin her dress.
For a few minutes, everyone is bent over the lawn, searching through clipped grass and fallen petals. I step back before someone crushes my train.
“I’m going inside,” I say. “I need water.”
“No,” Lena says immediately. “I’ll get it.”
“I’m not helpless.”
Lena blinks.
I soften my voice. “I’ll be right back.”
No one stops me.
I gather the front of my dress and walk toward the side entrance of the estate, away from the garden noise. The house is coolerinside, the marble floors quiet under my shoes. Staff move quickly through the halls with trays and flowers, too busy to notice me.
I should go straight to the bridal suite, but then I hear Dmitri’s voice.