When she has settled into her place, she tilts her chin up to look at me, and it’s impossible to miss the startled gasp that falls from her lips. The glow of the candles dances over us, highlighting my features in distorted shapes. Almost immediately, her eyes are drawn to the half-skull, and the roses slip from her hands to scatter around our feet. She looks startled, slightly embarrassed, and morbidly fascinated as she continues to study me.

I regret not allowing her to see me until now because more than anything, I wish we were alone for this moment. In my mind, I had played out this scenario so many times. I imagined all the ways it might unfold. Fear. Anger. Terror. I could easily see her running from me. Throwing herself in front of a car on the street rather than go through with this. I never imagined she might look at me the way she is right now. That she would want to study me. That she would find me so… intriguing.

I’m not certain how long we stand there like that. I don’t even realize I’ve reached for her wrist, anchoring her to me, until my thumb grazes over the warm pulse beating wildly there. Perhaps that is why she hasn’t moved. Her eyes drift to the large fingers wrapped around her, examining them as if they are a weapon. It’s tempting to release her, to see if she might still consider running, but I find that I don’t want to.

Regardless, there isn’t time to consider it. The music draws to an end, and we are both forced to focus on the priest. He instructs us to sit in the designated chairs on the platform, and so begins the traditional ceremony.

We open with a hymn, followed by readings from the Old Testament and the New. The priest speaks at length about marriage, gospel, and reflection, but I hear very little of it. When Ivy and I are united in front of the altar and asked to join hands, she offers them to me stiffly.

My fingers wrap around hers, noting she has grown cold and pale as if her reality is finally settling over her. She swallows and looks up at me from beneath her lashes, and I catch a glimpse of her oddly shaped pupil. Something she often tries to hide with her hair. That pupil was the source of much torment when she was a child, and the humiliation from her school days still lingers with her. When she is my wife, she will come to understand that I will not permit her to hide it from me or anyone else.