As a child, big poofy dresses and romantic "I do's" were prominent features in my dreams.
I had the day perfectly planned by the time I was nine. I would have a strapless yet traditional wedding gown with an eye length veil. I would leave my short hair down, but curled with a diamond or two woven in, though I wasn't sure how exactly one did that. I would be married in a small, intimate crowd of my closest friends and family. Afterwards, we would celebrate in a lavish reception with an eight layered cake. I would insist on a honeymoon in the tropics.
It was silly, it was idealistic. Until I was twenty five, I saw no reason why it shouldn't happen.
What I got was very different.
The day of my wedding, nothing went as planned. I had my traditional dress and veil, and my hair was curled just right. It would certainly be a small crowd, but it would be far from the loving atmosphere I had dreamed of. The reception would probably consist of more strategy meetings and then me, alone, curled up in a lonely apartament. There would be no honeymoon.
I dressed quietly, quickly, and alone. The wedding party arrived right on time to pick me up.
My brother Emmett helped me into the car, where I sat beside his wife and my best friend Rosalie. None of us spoke.
The Jeep rumbled to a stop in front of the courthouse, where lounging reporters immediately stood at attention, camera's flying up and pointing right at me.
"Are you ready?" Emmett twisted around and looked at me with his compassionate eyes, and I choked up.
I swallowed the tears and nodded. "As I'll ever be."
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.
Immediately, the world erupted into chaos. Lights flashing, screaming people in all directions, and the constant, constant staring.
"Miss Cullen! Miss Cullen! Why the wedding dress?"
"Miss Cullen! Is this some sort of plea to the jury?"
"Miss Cullen! Do you think your fiance will be found guilty?"
Pressure built in my chest as I bit back a scream. This was never, ever, how it was supposed to be.