Love in the Details
“Do I look like a marshmallow?” Ashley asked, spinning in front of the mirror in a sea of white lace and tulle.
Demitri, sitting on a plush chair with his legs crossed, tilted his head as if giving her serious consideration. “A beautiful marshmallow,” he teased, his lips curving into a smirk.
Ashley glared at him, though her lips twitched in amusement. “You’re not helping!”
Irene, who had been flipping through a rack of gowns, stepped in. “Ashley, darling, it’s a beautiful dress, but I don’t think it’s ‘you.’ Let’s try the one with the satin skirt next.”
Ashley sighed as the boutique assistant hurried to help her out of the current dress. “How are you so calm, Demitri? You’re just sitting there, watching me suffer!”
Demitri chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I’m calm because I know you’ll look stunning in whatever you wear. Besides, my fitting is next, so you’ll get your revenge.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Ashley muttered, but her smile betrayed her irritation.
Minutes later, Ashley stepped out in a sleek satin gown with delicate embroidery along the bodice. Irene gasped, her hands clasped together.
“Now that,” Irene said, her voice brimming with emotion, “is the one.”
Demitri stood, his teasing demeanor replaced by awe. “You look… perfect,” he said softly, his eyes locked on Ashley.
Ashley’s cheeks flushed, and she turned back to the mirror. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Demitri replied, stepping closer. “But more importantly, do you feel it?”
Ashley studied her reflection, then nodded. “Yes. This feels right.”
After finalizing the dress, they moved to the next room for Demitri’s fitting. Irene stayed behind to handle some paperwork, leaving the couple alone with the tailor.
Demitri emerged from the dressing room in a classic black tuxedo, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. Ashley’s jaw dropped slightly as she took him in.
“Well?” he asked, his tone playful but his eyes seeking her approval.
“You look…” Ashley struggled for words, then laughed. “Like a billionaire prince.”
Demitri laughed, his warm baritone filling the room. “I’ll take it.”
Once the fittings were done, they joined Irene in the lounge area. She handed Ashley a cup of tea and gave Demitri a knowing smile. “You two make such a striking couple. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”
Ashley smiled politely, but as Irene turned to speak with the boutique assistant, a flicker of unease crossed her face.
Demitri noticed immediately. “Ashley,” he said quietly, placing a hand on hers, “what’s wrong?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… all of this. The planning, the expectations. It’s starting to feel overwhelming.”
Demitri frowned. “Is it the dress? The venue? Something specific?”
“No,” Ashley admitted. “It’s everything. I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions, trying to make everyone happy. But what about us? What do we want?”
Demitri leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “This wedding isn’t about impressing anyone else. It’s about us and our love.”
Ashley nodded, her eyes glistening. “I don’t want a big, extravagant event. I just want something simple and meaningful—something that reflects who we are.”
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Demitri said firmly.
Irene, overhearing their conversation, joined them with a kind smile. “You know, I’ve always believed that a wedding should be a celebration of love, not a performance. If an intimate ceremony is what you want, then I support you wholeheartedly.”
Ashley’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled gratefully at Irene. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darling,” Irene said, patting her hand. “Now, let’s get out of here and have some lunch. Planning is much easier on a full stomach.”
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Later that evening, Ashley and Demitri sat on the couch in their living room, a blanket draped over their laps and a warm glow from the fireplace filling the space.
“Do you think we’ll regret not having a big wedding?” Ashley asked, resting her head on Demitri’s shoulder.
“Not for a second,” Demitri replied. “The only thing that matters is that I get to marry you.”
Ashley smiled, tracing patterns on his arm. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“It’s a talent,” Demitri said, grinning.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound. After a while, Demitri spoke again.
“You know,” he said, his voice low and serious, “I don’t care if we get married in a cathedral or a courthouse. As long as you’re there, it’ll be perfect.”
Ashley looked up at him, her heart swelling with love. “You’re perfect,” she whispered.
Demitri chuckled. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Donaldson.”
She laughed, the sound light and free. “Soon-to-be Mrs. Vasiliev,” she corrected, her eyes shining.
“And I can’t wait,” Demitri said, leaning down to kiss her.
As they sat together, their plans solidified in their hearts. The wedding would be small, but it would be theirs—a true celebration of their love and commitment. And in that moment, surrounded by warmth and each other, they knew they had made the right choice.