One foot in front of the other. That was all she had to do. It was something she'd be doing for almost thirty years and yet today it felt like a stupidly complicated request. One in front of the other, in a straight line. Simple. She took a deep breath. Several deep breaths. Her hands clutching tightly at the bouquet of flowers, desperately trying to stop herself trembling, but to no avail. She felt lightheaded and giddy, and her mouth was very dry.

She didn't understand why she was so nervous. She had no reason to be, but as soon as she had stepped out of the car, her stomach had felt like it was full of butterflies and she lost the power of speech, merely nodding when anyone spoke to her. They only had to wait a few minutes, but oh how those minutes dragged…

It was time.

The doors opened. Her sisters gliding up the aisle first as the music started.

She looked at her father, whose arm she now held onto so tightly, afraid that if she didn't she might trip. Or fall. Or run to the end, and that would never do. He smiled; his eyes a little glassy, his other hand reaching to cover hers and squeezing gently. This was it. No going back now. Not that she wanted to. It was all very…surreal. He nodded and gently urged her forwards. One foot in front of the other.

Then she saw him. Her heart stopped. His head was bent, but he was still stood perfectly straight, perfectly still. Even from the back he was so handsome. So handsome. Was he nervous? Maybe. Probably. Yes, if it was anything like how she felt…

She breathed deeply as she walked up, looking at the people on both sides who were gazing in wonder at her, some with tears in their eyes, her cheeks flushing and a smile spreading across her face. Every inch the blushing bride. She could hear murmuring, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the man who was stood at the alter; whose blonde hair was shining in the sunlight that was bursting through the windows. Who made her heart race and stop, and who made her nervous and excited. Who was waiting for her.

One foot in front of the other. Never before had she been so grateful to be at her father's side: letting him hold her up, needing him to support her…wanting him to give her away to the only other man who loved her as much, if not more, than he did.

It took two minutes. So close. One foot. Then the other. And then she was next to him. And everything stopped. And he turned, and his mouth dropped open, eyes wide. He was so handsome in his suit. So handsome. And she felt a blush creep up through her as he gazed at her in a look of pure love. He took her hand. He was shaking. They smiled briefly, secretively at each other, fingers squeezing, slowly turning to the vicar. This had to be a dream.


There you go, hope you enjoyed them! Thank you for reading!

(Goes back to flailing!)