Chapter 4 - The Kiss Under the Lanterns
The wedding was a blur of tears, laughter, and the soft, beautiful light of the Southern dusk.
Lily looked radiant. Her father, Edmund, had walked her down the aisle with a stiff, proud posture, though Nadia had seen him wipe his eyes with his sleeve when he thought no one was looking.
Throughout the ceremony, Daniel had stood beside Nadia in the third row. He didn't touch her—not in a way that felt showy—but his shoulder was always there, a steady, warm presence against hers. When the congregation stood, he stood. When they sat, his hand briefly brushed against her hip, guiding her back into her seat.
Now, the reception was in full swing. The market lights had turned the backyard into a golden cavern against the dark Carolina forest.
The band, a local group of fiddlers and a guitarist, finished a lively bluegrass tune and transitioned into a slow, sweet waltz.
"And now," the lead singer called out into the microphone, "we want to see all our couples on the floor. Especially the new ones! Let's see some love out there!"
Before Nadia could protest, Auntie Su was behind her, giving her a firm shove toward the dance floor. "Go! Go dance with your handsome man! Ed, look at them! They look like a movie!"
Nadia stumbled slightly, but she didn't hit the wood. Daniel caught her by the waist, his grip firm and sure, pulling her into his space before she could lose her balance.
"May I?" he asked, his voice a low rumble over the music.
"You don't have to do this, Daniel," she whispered, her hands resting nervously on his broad shoulders. "The family isn't looking anymore. You've already won them over."
"Nadia," he said, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was barely any space between them. "I'm not doing this for them."
The music swelled. Daniel moved with a surprising grace, his long legs guiding her in a slow, perfect circle under the hanging lanterns.
Nadia looked up at him. His face was inches from hers. The sharp, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the pine air and the sweet smell of the peaches.
"Last night," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Before we left... why did you say yes? You could have just given me the weekend off. You could have ignored my crying."
Daniel stopped dancing. They stood in the center of the floor, surrounded by swaying couples, but the rest of the world felt miles away.
"Because for three years," Daniel said, his eyes darker than the night sky around them, "I have walked into my apartment every evening, and the only proof that I was alive was that my coffee was made exactly the way I liked it. You built my home, Nadia. You did it silently, without asking for anything. And when I heard you crying... I realized that I had spent three years letting the only person who actually saw me bleed in my own kitchen."
His hand moved from her back to her cheek, his thumb gently tracing her jawline.
"I didn't come here to play a part," he whispered. "I came here to see if I could be the man your mother asked about. The kind one."
The band leader's voice suddenly crackled over the speakers. "Alright, couples! You know the rule! When the music stops, you make it count!"
The music died down to a soft, single chord.
Around them, couples laughed and kissed.
Nadia looked at Daniel. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could feel it through his chest.
"Just make it count," she whispered, repeating the words she had said the night before.
But this time, she didn't close her eyes.
Daniel leaned in. His lips met hers—not with the polite, staged kiss they had shared at the rehearsal dinner, but with a deep, consuming warmth that made the ground beneath her feet feel unsteady. He kissed her as if he were claiming something he had been waiting years to touch, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her close against him until she couldn't breathe.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. His eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, raw vulnerability that she had never seen in Daniel Holt.
"Nadia," he breathed.
But before she could answer, a sharp, metallic sound shattered the moment.
May you like
Edmund Chen stood near the porch, his face pale, his phone clutched in his hand. He wasn't looking at the dancers. He was looking at Nadia.
"Nadia," her father called out, his voice cracking. "It's your mama. The nurse says... you need to come inside. Now."
