#Chapter 225: The Wedding

The morning of our wedding began with a stillness I hadn’t felt in years. The Pack House was quiet in a way that felt intentional, like the staff had pulled back out of respect rather than routine. The usual rustle of paper and the clatter of trays were gone, replaced by a stillness that settled low and warm in my chest. It didn’t feel eerie, only careful. Richard’s arm stayed slung across my waist, his hand tucked just under the curve of my ribs. He was warm behind me, breathing evenly in the dim light. I didn’t move right away. I let myself lie there, letting the weight of everything we’d survived settle into me. When I finally shifted out from under him, he didn’t stir, but I didn’t need him to. I knew he’d be there when I came back. In the shower, I let the steam wrap around me while I ran my hands over the round curve of my belly. The baby moved gently, not forcefully, just a soft, steady presence, like they understood something big was happening. I pressed my palm flat and ex