09
On the Kensington Family’s private jet to Langston Hill, I carefully read through the information Mrs. Montclair had sent me about Zane Kensington. It wasn’t for the Montclair Family’s sake, nor to win favor or to please anyone. I was doing this for myself.
Because I was, at my core, a terrible person. If nothing unexpected happened, this would be my only marriage in this lifetime. Unless he grew tired of me first. I would at least try to make it work, even if it was just for show
“We’re here, ma’am.”
In the reserved lounge at the airport, I changed into the embroidered wedding dress that Kensington’s butler had prepared for me. A team of stylists carefully fixed my hair and makeup, ensuring I looked flawless.
By midday, the car pulled into the grand estate on the outskirts of Langston Hill.
The moment I stepped out of the vehicle, a sudden crack rang out near my feet, followed by a woman’s sharp voice.
“You come here right now! If she changes her mind because of you, you’re grounded for an entire week! No gadgets, no cereal for breakfast and definitely no playing in the park!”
Before I could process what had just happened, I followed the voice and spotted a little girl, no older than four or five, with tiny pigtails. She had just wriggled free from a woman’s grip and was now dashing toward me, throwing her arms around my legs with a delighted grin
“Are you the bride?”
Her big eyes sparkled as she gazed up at me, her front teeth missing, making her words come out slightly garbled. “Whoa, you so pwetty.” She latched onto my leg, beaming up at me like I was the best thing she’d ever seen.
I had been tense the entire ride, but her sudden embrace made me laugh despite myself. I reached down, gently tugging one of the tiny braids in her hair.
“Alright, the bride’s here! Let’s get this wedding started!” a cheerful voice called out.
An older woman stepped forward, ushering me toward the house.
The Kensington Family had deep roots and old traditions and their ceremonies reflected that. A large floral
Ich stood at the entrance of i
arch stood at the entrance of the estate, draped in white roses and baby’s breath, symbolizing purity and new beginnings. A white aisle runner stretched across the courtyard, leading to the grand double doors where the ceremony would take place.
Since I didn’t want Cassian catching wind of this, I had refused Mrs. Montclair’s offer to send a bridal escort. Mrs. Marjorie, the woman overseeing the Kensingtons‘ side of the wedding, took my hand and carefully guided me toward the entryway. Before I stepped forward, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished glass doors- a bride stepping into a new life. The moment my foot crossed the threshold, the estate erupted into cheers, laughter echoing across the gardens. Confetti popped, children squealed and for the first time in a long time, I felt the warmth of celebration wrap around me.
I had expected something stiff and formal, but instead, there was a certain liveliness to the gathering–a sense of genuine joy.
For a brief moment, it reminded me of my childhood–of small–town weddings where the whole community gathered, where love and laughter weren’t just for show but truly felt.
Then, suddenly, I felt it–a tingling sensation down my spine. A strange pull made me glance toward the second–floor balcony of the mansion A tall figure stood there, unmoving. I couldn’t make out his features, but I knew -it had to be Zane.
Of course, he wouldn’t be able to navigate the crowd easily. His blindness made situations like this challenging. Maybe he was simply listening, taking in the sounds of his own wedding from afar. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look away, returning my focus to the woman guiding me through the rest of the ceremony
Several children, laughing and playing, ran up to my side, their excitement melting away the tension in my chest. This place was nothing like the Montclair estate. There, everything was rigid, proper, suffocating. Here, it was different–lively, warm, chaotic in the best way.
For the first time in years, I was reminded of childhood memories I thought I had lost. Back when life was simpler, when love didn’t come with conditions, when family meant comfort instead of obligation.
“Such a lovely girl,” a kind voice spoke up beside me. “Marrying into our family must feel like a big change.” I turned and found myself facing an elderly man with a cane, his sharp blue eyes studying me with warmth.
I hesitated. A lump formed in my throat. This was just a marriage of convenience. A contract.
Before I could answer, he took my hand in his own and pressed a small velvet pouch into my palm–a gift. “Welcome to the family, dear.” His voice was warm, filled with nothing but sincerity
My stomach twisted, I wasn’t supposed to be treated like this.
I wasn’t supposed to feel… welcomed.
I had spent so long bracing myself for cold indifference that kindness left me at a loss. “Grandfather,” a smooth voice interrupted from behind me.
I turned and for a moment, the world seemed to slow.
He stood tall, poised, draped in a well–fitted suit that accentuated his sharp features. The wind lifted strands of his dark hair, revealing a face that seemed both distant and impossibly refined. But it was his eyes–striking piercing even in their blindness–that stole the air from my lungs.
My heart pounded violently in my chest
“Zane, you’re here,” the old man said with a warm smile, taking my hand and placing it gently in Zane’s. “With this, I entrust this young woman to you. Be a good husband to her and take care of her well.”
He paused, his gaze softening: “I hope the two of you share a life filled with love and happiness.” Edward Kensington didn’t feel like the patriarch of a wealthy aristocratic family. Instead, he reminded me of an ordinary grandfather–kind and genuine, without the weight of lofty expectations. He didn’t pressure us to have children or burden us with obligations. He simply wished for us to have a peaceful and happy marriage. It reminded
peen much of Grandma.
A lump rose in my throat. The warmth of his blessing, so unexpectedly genuine, sent a wave of emotion through me. I wanted to cry, yet at the same time, I felt more at ease.
“Yes, Grandfather, I will take good care of Livia,” Zane said
A gentle squeeze wrapped around my fingers. His large, warm palm enveloped mine, his touch careful yet reassuring His fingers brushed lightly against my skin, as if sensing the whirlwind of emotions I couldn’t voice.
I found myself looking up, memorizing every feature of the man standing before me.
As if he could feel my gaze, he turned slightly toward me, though his deep, unfocused eyes stared somewhere
beyond me
My breath hitched. It wasn’t fair. How could someone so perfect be forced to live in darkness?
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice deep and steady “I will always take care of you.”
And just like that–like rain washi
