Chapter Fifteen — Vows in the Wildfire
The morning before the wedding, Hazel woke to a breakfast tray.
Scrambled eggs, berries, coffee just the way she liked it.
And a handwritten note.
> You've survived storms. Today, you walk into sunlight. —H
She pressed the card to her chest. Not out of romance — but because it felt like armor.
Henry's family arrived that afternoon.
They swept into the city like a force of nature — all sharp coats and louder laughter. His sister, Mara, was the first to reach Hazel, wrapping her in an unexpected hug.
"So you're the one," Mara whispered. "The girl who finally melted the iceberg."
Hazel laughed. "Is that what he was?"
"He was frozen in grief for years. It wasn't heartbreak. It was abandonment. You're the first person he lets touch the ache."
Hazel blinked. "That sounds heavy."
Mara grinned. "You're stronger than he is."
Henry's mother, Vivian, regal and warm, kissed Hazel's forehead.
"I knew you were the one when he called just to say he couldn't breathe without you."
Hazel blushed.
Henry's father, Douglas, gave her a nod that meant more than words.
And suddenly, Hazel didn't feel alone anymore.
But outside the venue, shadows stirred.
Hazel's father tried to approach — again.
This time, Vivian handled it.
She stepped outside, heels clicking like a metronome, and said, "You will not wreck her peace."
The man laughed. "Who are you, the rich mother-in-law?"
"No," she said. "I'm the last voice you'll hear before the police arrive."
And they did. Two black sedans. A quiet warning.
Ava tried too.
She came to the rehearsal uninvited, in red lipstick and a lie.
"Henry, I just need five minutes—"
But Mara intercepted her, eyes glittering with disdain.
"Five minutes is how long it'll take to toss your desperate ass out."
Ava smirked. "He used to love me."
Mara leaned in. "You should've learned by now. Some fires don't stay lit — they burn the house down."
That night, Hazel stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room, veil spilling around her feet, breath catching in her throat.
Henry appeared in the doorway, eyes soft with wonder.
"You're not supposed to see me yet," she whispered.
"I couldn't wait."
He walked in, took her hands.
"This… this is not a dream," he said. "It's the first real thing I've ever had."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then let's go claim it."
The ceremony began at dusk.
Candles lined the aisle.
The sky bled with gold.
Hazel walked down to the sound of strings and steady hearts.
Henry waited — dark suit, shadowed eyes, trembling fingers.
And when they faced each other, nothing else existed.
No past.
No betrayal.
No father in the dark.
No Ava at the edge of ruin.
Just this moment.
Just them.
"I didn't know love could be quiet," Hazel whispered during her vows. "But you taught me that silence can hold everything."
Henry's voice cracked as he replied, "You made the chaos inside me feel like music."
They kissed like they meant it.
The crowd rose in thunder.
And in that moment, love wasn't soft.
It was war-won. Blood-won. Truth-won.
And it was theirs.
Outside the gate, Ava watched.
Eyes rimmed in shadow.
Beside her, Hazel's father held a flask, muttering curses.
But for once, they weren't the center of the story.
They were background noise.
Forgotten ghosts.
Later, at the reception, Mara pulled Hazel aside.
"You're one of us now," she said, holding out a champagne glass. "And we protect our own."
Hazel raised her glass.
"To not being afraid anymore."
They clinked.
And for the first time in years, Hazel didn't look over her shoulder.
She looked forward.
Straight into forever.