Chapter 11
Apr 30, 2025
Miranda’s POV
“You’re not even listening, are you?” Daniela flicked a piece of popcorn at my face from across the couch.
I blinked, snapping out of my daze. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
She gave me a pointed look. “I asked if you wanted tulle or silk for the wedding gown. And no, you can’t say both.”
I sighed, falling back against the cushions. “I don’t know, Dani. Tulle is too fairytale and silk is… too serious. Can’t I just get married in a pantsuit and call it a day?”
Daniela gave a dramatic gasp. “Blasphemy! You do not get married in pants. Not unless your name is Zendaya or you’re walking down a Paris runway.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Fine. What’s the internet saying?”
“Let’s find out.” She grabbed her phone and opened her Pinterest board like a woman on a mission. “Okay, see this one? Mermaid style, silk base, lace overlay. Ooh, and a dramatic train.”
I leaned over to look. “Pretty. But can I actually sit in that?”
“No one sits at weddings anymore,” she deadpanned. “You just stand, spin, twirl, and pose for Instagram.”
I chuckled. “Right. How could I forget?”
She swiped through more photos. “What about this one? Off-shoulder, classic satin, buttons all the way down the back.”
“Now that is elegant,” I admitted.
“You’d look like royalty in it,” she grinned.
“Royalty with commitment issues.”
She laughed. “That too.”
We scrolled together for a while, occasionally pausing to swoon over dresses that neither of us could afford, even though we both knew price tags didn’t apply to this particular wedding.
Still, there was something strangely therapeutic about pretending the wedding was a normal one. Like everything else in my life wasn’t riding on it.
“What about cakes?” Daniela asked. “Fondant or buttercream?”
“Definitely buttercream,” I said. “I want people to eat it, not peel it like wallpaper.”
“Agreed,” she said with a nod. “Theme?”
“No clue. But no pastel overload, please.”
“Got it. Nothing that looks like a baby shower exploded.” She jotted something into her Notes app. “And decor? Are you still going with that interior decorator you saw on Instagram?”
“I was thinking of reaching out to her, yeah,” I said. “But I’m also open to suggestions.”
Daniela tapped her chin. “I’ve got a cousin who does amazing floral setups. She owes me one. Want me to ask?”
“Please do.”
“And the food?”
“My mom’s handling that,” I said, perking up. “Her catering company’s doing the whole spread.”
Daniela’s face lit up. “Oh, hell yes. I still dream about that roasted pepper soup she made at your graduation party.”
I smirked. “You’ll get another taste—wedding exclusive.”
“Can I sneak into the kitchen and steal a pot for myself?”
“I’ll ask her to save you a private batch.” I laughed.
“That’s why you’re my best friend,” she said, reaching over to bump her shoulder against mine.
I smiled, but it quickly faded. A heavy silence settled between us. Daniela noticed.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
I hesitated, then exhaled. “I don’t know, Dani. This whole thing… I still don’t know how I feel about it.”
Her brow furrowed. “The wedding?”
I nodded. “The arrangement. The marriage. All of it.”
Daniela tilted her head. “You’re not actually going through with it, are you?”
“I… I think I am.”
She stared at me for a long beat. “Miranda.”
I looked down at my lap. “I know. I know it sounds crazy. But it’s not just about me. My grandfather’s dying. His last wish was to see me married before he goes. He’s been holding onto this dream for years. How do I say no to that?”
Daniela reached over and took my hand. “I’m sorry, babe. I know that’s a lot of pressure. But still… you can’t live someone else’s dream forever. What about your dreams?”
“That’s the thing. I think I’ve spent so long avoiding their expectations, I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “Then figure it out. And if you’re really doing this marriage thing, fine. But don’t trap yourself. As soon as that one year is up, get a divorce. Walk away. Do you.”
I managed a weak smile. “That’s the plan.”
Daniela leaned back and grabbed another piece of popcorn. “Good. Because the last thing I want is to see you stuck in something that wasn’t your choice.”
I glanced at her, then chewed on my bottom lip. “There’s something you don’t know.”
She paused mid-popcorn throw. “Oh?”
I hesitated again, then said it. “My fiancé… the guy I’m marrying… he’s actually my boss.”
Daniela blinked. “Come again?”
I cleared my throat. “Jeremiah Aldridge is Damon Aldridge, my husband-to-be.”
Silence.
Then a loud, dramatic gasp. “What?!”
I clamped my hands over her mouth immediately, eyes wide. “Shhh! My parents can hear everything, Dani!”
She mumbled something into my palm, and I slowly pulled my hands away.
“The Jeremiah Aldridge, the same one you told me you had a crush on on his first day?” she hissed, eyes wide like saucers.
My face turned bright red. “Dani!”
