Miranda’s POV

It was our wedding day.

I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by fluttering bridesmaids, steaming curlers, makeup brushes, and my own nervous heartbeat that thudded like a drum.

The morning had started in a blur of laughter and lip gloss, but now, as the sun began to climb higher in the sky, reality sank in. This was happening. I was getting married.

“Miranda, hold still,” the makeup artist scolded gently, tilting my chin as she brushed highlighter over my cheekbones. “You keep moving.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, barely able to sit still.

My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, hair in soft curls pinned back, veil ready to be placed, dress hanging on the door like an ethereal promise. Everything was perfect. Except for the knot in my stomach.

And then the door creaked open.

“Miranda,” a familiar voice called.

I turned sharply, nearly knocking over the stylist’s brush tray. “Damon? What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see me—”

But I stopped.

He walked in slowly, shutting the door behind him. He was in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, the top buttons undone, his eyes holding something deeper than nerves. They held emotion. Intensity. Love.

He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees before me. My heart skipped.

“Miranda,” he whispered, looking up at me. “I know this is breaking tradition, but I had to see you. Before we say our vows.”

I blinked. “Why? What’s going on?”

He reached for my hands, holding them gently between his palms. “Because I needed you to hear this from me now. I vow to love you, to protect you, and to stand by you no matter what. You and… our unborn children.”

I stared.

Did I hear that right?

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You couldn’t wait a few more hours to say that at the altar? Damon, what are you talking about? What unborn children?”

His grip tightened slightly. He looked nervous.

“You fainted yesterday, remember?” he began, cautiously.

I nodded slowly, suspicion creeping into my mind.

“We took you to the hospital after that. And… the doctor ran some tests. Kayla, you fainted because you’re pregnant.”

The world stopped moving.

I pulled my hands away from him, blinking rapidly. “What? No. No, that’s not possible.”

He stood, carefully. “I’m serious.”

“No!” I shouted, stepping back from him. My hand flew to my stomach, pressing against the flatness there. Nothing felt different. Nothing felt real.

Just then, the door opened again and my mother walked in, halting mid-step when she saw Damon inside the room.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, frowning.

“Tell her,” Damon said gently.

My mother looked at me, and then at Damon, and then sighed. “It’s true, sweetheart. You’re pregnant. I didn’t want to tell you until after the wedding, but…well, it’s better you know now.”

I sat down hard on the edge of the vanity stool. “Oh my God…”

Everything began to make sense. The mood swings. The sudden rage I’d felt over stupid things. Crying at commercials. The weird food cravings I’d chalked up to stress. I covered my mouth.

“I’m pregnant?”

“Yes,” Damon whispered. “You’re pregnant. With my child.”

Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t know if I was crying from shock or fear or both.

“How… how far along am I?”

“Almost three weeks,” Mom said softly, walking over to brush a hand over my hair.

I looked at Damon, betrayal twisting my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Did you think this would make me stay? Did you want to trap me with this pregnancy?”

He looked wounded. “No! Miranda, I would never. I didn’t even know until last night. We didn’t know how to tell you, today’s the wedding, and we didn’t want you to panic.”

I laughed bitterly, wiping my eyes. “Well, surprise. I’m panicking.”

He stepped closer again, slowly. “I love you, Miranda. Not because of the baby. I love you for who you are. I want a life with you. I want this marriage, not just because of our one-year agreement. I want forever.”

My mother stiffened beside me. “One-year agreement?”

I froze.

Damon’s jaw clenched slightly, but he turned to her. “Yes, there was an agreement… initially. But things changed. I fell in love with her. Deeply. That’s why we didn’t want to tell you about the contract. Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

I watched as Mom processed that, her expression unreadable. “I see,” she finally said, folding her arms.

“He’s telling the truth,” I said softly, glancing at Damon. “It started as a deal, but… things changed. I didn’t expect it either.”

Mom let out a breath. “Well, if there’s love between you now, then that’s all that matters.”

Damon looked back at me, eyes desperate. “Please, Miranda. Don’t push me away. Let me love you. Let me love our baby.”

I sniffed and nodded slowly, wiping my tears. “I’m just… scared. This is a lot.”

“I know,” he said, crouching to meet my eyes. “But we’re in this together. No matter what.”

I looked into his eyes. All I saw was sincerity.

And love.

I threw my arms around him and held on tightly. He kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” I murmured.

A knock came from the door. “It’s time.”

I pulled back, laughing shakily. “Guess I better get married, huh?”

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride,” Damon said with a grin.

He kissed my forehead and slipped out the door, leaving me in a daze. Everything was changing. And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of that change.

The music began. I stood at the end of the aisle, bouquet in hand, my heart racing. My father held my arm gently, whispering, “You’ve got this.”

When the doors opened. Everyone stood. The soft strains of the wedding march echoed through the church. And at the end of the aisle stood Damon, smiling like he’d just seen his entire world walking toward him.

I held his gaze and took one step, then another.

By the time I reached him, my eyes were filled with tears again. Happy tears.

The officiant began to speak, but I barely heard him. All I saw was Damon. All I felt was his hand in mine.

“Do you, Damon Aldridge, take Miranda Steven to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Miranda Steven, take Damon Aldridge to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

We exchanged rings. My fingers trembled, but Damon steadied them.

Then it was time.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Damon didn’t hesitate. His hands cupped my face, and his lips pressed to mine with a gentle yet fierce passion. I melted into him. The crowd cheered. Cameras flashed. But all I felt was him.

When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Forever,” he whispered.

“Forever,” I echoed.