The sky glowed with a soft orange light as the sun sank slowly toward the horizon. Warm gold spilled across the clouds, then drifted down to the indigo sea, leaving the water shimmering with ripples of light that looked almost like golden scales.
Dorothea had spent the whole morning catching up on sleep. In the afternoon, Latham came to wake her, nudging her into getting ready. She hadn’t realized until then that the photographer was already on board the yacht. Latham told her they’d be taking some wedding photos out on the deck first.
She slipped into an ivory satin wedding dress that trailed behind her, then stepped out onto the deck. The sea breeze played with her veil, making the tiny crystals sewn into it dance in the wind.
Latham stood beside her, dressed in a sharp black suit. He looked so tall and straight, almost like the mast of the yacht itself. The sunset cast a glow on his face, and his eyes lingered on her with a quiet intensity.
The photographer sized them up, noticing how awkward they seemed together, and started giving directions. “Groom, put your hand around the bride’s lower back.”
Latham did what he was told.
As soon as his hand touched her, Dorothea felt a spark of warmth spread from his fingertips. She straightened her back and tried not to react, but she couldn’t help it.
Latham noticed, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth tilted up just slightly.
“Alright, now turn your back to me,” the photographer said.
At that moment, a flock of seagulls swept across the pink sky. The photographer’s camera clicked again and again, capturing every moment.
“Good, now change positions. Bride, keep facing away. Groom, turn sideways toward the bride,” the photographer called out, still snapping away.
Latham’s eyes reflected Dorothea’s silhouette, delicate and perfect. The seagulls framed them in the background.
For a second, he forgot about the camera, forgot about the world. His gaze drifted down to Dorothea’s lips, soft and pink. Without thinking, he leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to the corner of her mouth.
It wasn’t passionate, but it was full of quiet tenderness.
The evening breeze picked up, catching her veil and making the crystals and sequins sparkle along with the sunlight on the waves. The photographer kept clicking. “That’s it. Perfect.”
He could tell the couple was finally loosening up.
They didn’t stop until the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and only then did the photographer reluctantly call it a day.
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