The wedding hall buzzed with anticipation as Richard stood at the center, ready to fling the garter into the crowd of single men jostling for position. Lydia, perched at the edge of the dance floor, radiated satisfaction, as though she had orchestrated every moment of this day to showcase her triumph. Yet, amidst the chaos, William remained composed, standing a little further back, watching with an enigmatic smile.
As the garter soared through the air, William moved with a feline grace, catching it effortlessly. The room erupted into applause and cheers, save for Lydia, whose triumphant demeanor swiftly morphed into an expression of disbelief. Her well-choreographed plan was unraveling, thread by thread, and she seemed at a loss for words.
With the garter in hand, William turned and walked straight toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. The room grew quiet, a collective breath held in suspense. He took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring, and guided me to the center of the dance floor. The room seemed to close in, dimming to a focus on the two of us amidst the glittering decor.
