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Estela POV
I look down at the ring on my finger—simple, elegant, understated, but so heavy with meaning.
I'm now Estela Castellano.
I still can't believe it.
The way it happened was so... us.
A small, rushed court wedding—no elaborate fanfare, no grand mafia spectacle. Just us, Julie as one witness, and a random pediatrician pulled from the spa because "we needed a second witness and she had nice handwriting."
I can't stop smiling every time I think about it.
When I said yes, she didn't wait. No speech. No flowery declarations. She stood, grabbed my hand, and said, "Come on then. We're getting married right now."
And we did.
I turn my hand in the light, watching the gold catch the soft sun. The ring fits perfectly. Like it was always meant to be here.
Married.
To her.
I exhale a little laugh, cheeks warm.
Married.
The thought keeps looping through my head, and every time, it sends this little flutter through my chest.
