“Look at the princess now!”
“She actually agreed to this?”
At the altar stood my groom.
Lando.
He was hunched over, trembling, wearing a suit that looked like it had been dragged through every alley in the city. The fabric was torn, stained with mud, grease, and God knows what else. His hair was a wild, matted mess. A thick, filthy beard covered most of his face. The stench hit me even before I reached him—sewage, sweat, and despair.
Julian stood nearby in a flawless black tuxedo, clapping slowly, his new fiancée giggling beside him.
“My God, he smells like a trash can!” she shrieked.
The entire church erupted in laughter. Phones were out. This moment would go viral.
I reached the altar. Lando kept his head down. When I finally forced myself to look at him, something strange happened. For a split second, our eyes met beneath the tangled hair and soot.
