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Because he’s doing this. Really doing it.

And now I’m standing on the edge of forever, wondering if it’s real for him—or just a duty he’s accepted because of me.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper. “I don’t even know if he’s marrying me because he wants to or because he feels obligated.”

My mother meets my gaze in the mirror. Her eyes are soft, but wise. Lined with years of watching people fall in and out of love.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She brushes a loose strand of hair back from my cheek. “You don’t let a man like Balor Cruz into your life if you aren’t prepared for the storm he brings with him.”

My throat tightens.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That man would burn the world down if it meant keeping you safe.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” I ask, voice breaking. “What if it’s just lust? What if he’s just another fan? I’ve had them before, you know. Men who want the Instagram reel, not the woman I am. What if he’s someone who’ll walk away once the danger moves on?”

She crouches a little, bringing our eyes level.

“If he’s not worth taking a chance on, then that’s your answer, sweetheart. Because love? Real love? It’s always a risk, Lucy. And it’s always worth it. You don’t back down from it because you’re afraid of getting hurt. You lean in. You love harder. And you pray he does too.”

She kisses my forehead, her hands framing my face like she’s memorizing me.

“I trust you to know the difference. And I trust him to recognize what he has before he loses it.”

The door bursts open a moment later, a squeal piercing the quiet calm.

“BRIDE ALERT!”

Cora.

Followed by Jade and Leanna, their dresses clutched in their arms, makeup half done and grins already breaking across their faces.

“Oh my God, you look like a bridal supermodel!” Cora screams, flinging herself onto the bed beside me.

“She’s not real,” Jade gasps, fanning herself dramatically. “We need a security team for us now. That dress is dangerous.”

Leanna smirks. “Dangerous? Please. She’s the diamond of the season and she damn well knows it.”

They crowd around me, hugging, shrieking, adjusting straps and fluffing the skirt of my gown like it’s sacred.

I can’t help but laugh, the nerves melting into the warmth of the people who know me best.

And really, the gown is fabulous.

It’s all impossibly soft French lace and glittery tulle with a sweetheart neckline that emphasizes my cleavage and makes my waist look smaller than it really is.

My cousins are amazing. Loud, overprotective, emotionally feral—yes—but amazing.

They’ve kept me upright through all of this.

Held my hand. Painted my nails. Sassed the press.

Threatened my father with high heels and champagne flutes when he got too overbearing.

Whatever I needed, they delivered. No questions. No judgments.

They know.

They know how hard this has been for me.