Story Snapper

I stepped into my first wedding dress boutique when I was six years old. Satin, lace, and the sweet scent of rose transported me to a world filled with hope. From then on, I was hooked. When I grew up, I’d have the perfect wedding day. I’d be cloaked in white and crowned with a thousand jewels. I’d wear the pale blue drop earrings my mother always wore, borrow my older sister’s make-up, and buy snow-white trainers that I’d cover with lace. It would be the perfect picture. But everyone knows, the reality never quite matches up. Especially the dream of a child. Perhaps, though, it would have if it wasn’t for that night one year ago.

I twirled the ring around on my finger, captivated by the moon’s charm against the diamonds. Should I? Shouldn’t I? What if? What if not? Slipping it on and off, on and off, until one wrong slip, and down it fell, caught by a new bud forming on a skinny branch just off the blossom tree next to the balcony. He had saved all his money to buy that ring. I knew I had to get it back. It wasn’t too far out of reach. It turned out it was. And down I fell. Head first into the rockery.

One year later, cloaked in white and crowned with not quite a thousand jewels, twirling that same ring around my finger, I can barely stand to look at my reflection.

Disfigured.

Right before her big day.

Everyone’s plans got changed.

I didn’t recognise her.

Poor thing.

Poor fiancé.

There’s a knock at the door, and I catch my reflection head-on. How will I smile in the photographs? How will I face everyone? Knock. Knock. Be grateful you’re alive, I hear that voice remind me again.

‘Who is it?’ I croak.

‘It’s me.’

I scurry to the door with a swish of satin. ‘You can’t see me, it’s bad luck.’

‘I just wanted to see how you’re doing.’ He pauses. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Fine. I’m fine.’

‘Maddie.’

I press my forehead against the door. ‘I don’t look like a bride.’

‘What is a bride supposed to look like?’

‘Perfect.’

‘Mads, to me, you are the most beautiful. I’ve always thought so.’

‘That was before.’

‘No, it’s now.’ He pushes the door, and I step back, my heart racing. ‘You are perfect.’

I blink back tears, ashamed that I ever hesitated at spending the rest of my life with this man, touching the side of my face I’ve still to get acquainted with.

He touches the other side. ‘I want to marry you. Will you still marry me?’

‘I will.’

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Story Snapper - The best short stories with photography