The golden hues of dusk painted the sky in warm shades of lavender and peach as Roselle stepped into the garden, the soft rustling of her gown the only sound in the quiet moment. The embroidered fabric of her wedding dress shimmered beneath the waning sunlight, the deep maroon layers cascading around her like waves. The skirt, full and flowing, was adorned with delicate floral patterns stitched in gold thread, each petal telling a story of patience, growth, and love. A matching hijab draped elegantly over her shoulders, its edges lined with intricate lace, framing her face with a grace that spoke of both tradition and timeless beauty.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched a bouquet of crimson roses and baby’s breath, their fragrance mixing with the cool evening air. The gentle wind tugged at her veil, causing it to dance behind her, almost as if the spirits of the past were offering their blessings. As she walked bt the field, few roses petals falling out.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement, her grandfather standing a few steps away, his gaze filled with an emotion she hadn’t seen before. Pride, sorrow, love. It was all there, unspoken but deeply felt. His fingers trembled as he adjusted his songkok, his eyes never leaving her.
"She looks just like her mother," her grandmother whispered, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "So radiant, so strong."
Her grandfather from Malaysia, who had traveled far for this day, clasped his hands behind his back, nodding in solemn approval. "She carries her mother’s light within her. And today, that light shines the brightest."
Darren, standing at a respectful distance, watched with quiet admiration. There was a warmth in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the journey she had walked to get here. He had seen her at her lowest, had been the steady presence when she needed grounding. And now, he saw her stepping into a new beginning, one she deserved. He exhaled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he muttered, "Finally."
As Roselle turned her gaze toward the horizon, she felt it, the peace that had once seemed so unreachable. The weight of the past no longer chained her, nor did the echoes of sorrow define her. She was free. And in just a few moments, she would walk toward a future where love, in its purest form, awaited her. 
_______
At that same day, Roselle wanted to make the day special by seeing her mother. She wanted to show her, her beautiful dress. She wanted her mother to see. Even if it meant talking to the air.
The gentle rustling of leaves accompanied Roselle’s footsteps as she walked through the cemetery, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the headstones. A bouquet of deep red roses rested in her hands, the petals fresh with morning dew. The scent of earth and blossoms filled the air as she reached the familiar spot.
Her mother’s grave.
Roselle knelt before her mother’s grave, the hem of her deep crimson wedding dress pooling around her like a blooming rose. The fabric, soft and flowing, fluttered slightly in the evening breeze, mirroring the gentle sway of the grass beneath her.
She reached out, fingertips tracing the engraved letters of her mother’s name. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Mom, I did it." A soft chuckle escaped her lips, though tears welled in her eyes. "I'm married now… to someone who loves me the way you always wished for."
The wind carried her words into the quiet, as if the heavens themselves were listening.
She placed a small bouquet of fresh roses beside the headstone, their petals vibrant and full of life. "I miss you every day, but I know you're watching."
A soft smile tugged at her lips, though tears welled in her eyes. "You always said love should be gentle, like the way the sun kisses the earth in the morning. That’s what I’ve found with him." Her grip tightened around the bouquet. "Hakeem... he loves me in a way that doesn't just hold me together but lets me bloom."
From a distance, her loved ones stood quietly, giving her space. Darren stood with her grandparents, his usual protective stance unwavering, his eyes softer than before. Her Malaysian grandparents, whom she had not seen in years, had flown in for the wedding. They held each other’s hands, watching her with pride and quiet grief.
A warm presence approached behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Hakeem knelt beside her, his hand resting lightly on her back, just enough to remind her he was there. "She would be so proud of you," he murmured. "Of the woman you’ve become."
Roselle let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "I hope so."
Hakeem reached forward, placing a single white rose atop the grave. "Roses carry stories, you know? Some say red ones symbolize love, but I think it’s more than that." He glanced at her, his brown eyes warm. "Roses are proof that beauty and thorns can exist together. That strength can grow even in fragile petals. Like you, Roselle."
Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she was smiling. She turned to Hakeem, and he opened his arms. Without hesitation, she leaned into him, her face buried in his chest as his arms wrapped around her. There was nothing hurried in his touch, no need for words, just warmth, safety, love.
“Let’s go home?” he asked softly.
She nodded, but instead of moving, she stayed in his embrace for a while longer, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
That evening, they sat together on the balcony of their new home. The sky painted shades of pink and violet as the sun dipped below the horizon. Roselle rested her head on Hakeem’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined.
"You keep staring," she teased, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
"Because I can," he admitted, eyes twinkling. "My wife is beautiful."
Roselle laughed softly. "You’re ridiculous."
"And you love it."
She sighed, feigning exasperation, but the way her fingers tightened around his betrayed her. "Maybe."
Hakeem lifted their intertwined hands, pressing a lingering kiss to her fingers. "I love you. More than words, more than anything."
Roselle felt the warmth in her chest bloom, a feeling she never thought she’d truly experience, peace, security, love. She turned slightly, tracing the sharp edge of his jawline with her fingers before cupping his cheek. "I love you too, Hakeem. Always."
As the stars blinked into existence above them, Hakeem leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "We have a lifetime ahead of us."
She smiled. "And I can’t wait to spend every second of it with you."
Hand in hand, wrapped in the soft glow of twilight, Roselle and Hakeem sat there, love woven between their fingertips, promising forever in the quiet of the night.