by Chloé Duval
I love to watch her when she drifts off into her own universe. The expressions on her face are fascinating, unique. I could almost guess what she is sketching from looking at her. In this picture, I can tell from her pink cheeks that she’s drawing me. I remember it vividly.
I asked for her hand in marriage that day, in the ruins of the castle. Even now, as I think back to that moment, I cannot hold back an ecstatic grin.
I have never smiled as much as I have since she entered my life.
And I would not change that for the world.
The coffee machine dings. I pour myself a cup, and as I down the bitter black brew, I unlock the screen and type out a message.
I know the groom’s not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, but is he allowed to talk to her?
I hit Send and wait, hoping she’s already awake. Max rolls over, yawns, barks, looks for Alex. I explain to him that she’s at Marine’s, but that she’ll be back tonight. He misses her, I know. So do I, even if we’ve only been apart for a few hours. The former stables we have been living in seem empty without her.
“A single soul you lack, and all is bleak,” Alphonse de Lamartine wrote. My own universe will not stay bleak for long—I intend to fill it with a lot of mini-Alexes.
Several dots appear on the screen. She’s writing back.
I think so. Hello, man of my dreams.
Hello, love of my life.
We banter and swap a few words, and she asks me what I am doing. I send her a picture of my coffee cup and add “you?”
Drawing. Here.
I smile, shaking my head. Only she would draw on the morning of her wedding. My phone chimes to signal the arrival of a new picture—a charcoal portrait of me. My heartbeat quickens. Have I mentioned that I love it when she draws me? When I see myself through her eyes, I feel…different. Happy. Richer. Because I hold the most precious treasure in the world—her heart.
I tap out a reply.
Nice.
I like it too. I think I’m gonna keep it.
The sketch or the model?
Three messages come in rapid-fire succession.
The sketch, of course.
^^
But the model too.
You better.
Two hours from now it’ll be too late anyhow.
I can still run away.
Do you want to?
Nah. I’m fine here.
So am I.
Gotta go, makeup girl’s here. See you later? I’ll be the one in the long white gown, you won’t be able to miss me. <3
Still smiling, I set the phone down and sip my coffee, thinking of her.
She changed my life. Literally. She appeared one day out of nowhere with her dreams and romantic ideas and upended my every certainty, overthrew my plans and opened my eyes. I used to see life only as an endless succession of disillusions, disappointments and drab days. My everyday life was only darkness, poverty and sadness. I committed to Doctors Without Borders to change the world, but in the end, the world had been the one to change me. It had stolen my smile, my heart and everything that had pushed me down this path: compassion, empathy, the desire to do good. It felt as though the more I worked, the less things changed—and poverty kept gaining ground. I had ended up giving in. The world couldn’t be changed. I couldn’t change it.
And then she charged in like a tornado and disrupted everything. As incredible as it seems, this tiny, one-meter-fifty slip of a woman saved my father’s castle and my mother’s passion all by herself, and breathed new life into the town they had both loved so much and fought for to their dying breaths.
With her disarming charm and her romantic soul, she showed me that sometimes you only need a smile, a single word, to chase away the darkness. That sometimes, wearing rose-tinted glasses is the best way to see the world. That I could still be happy. That everything wasn’t over for me yet.
Without even trying to, she had given me hope back. Hope and faith in humankind—two qualities that had made me into a good doctor in the first place and that I had lost along the way, somewhere on the border between Sudan and Chad.
I fell in love in a heartbeat. I just needed much longer to acknowledge and accept it. To open my eyes and understand that life without her has no meaning.
But now—now I know it.
I slam my empty mug into the sink, making Max jump, and go back upstairs to dress, light footed and eager.
The love of my life awaits.
* * * *
An hour later I am in my place, beneath an arbor covered in white roses at the end of an alley bracketed with chairs beribboned in white. Behind me, the grapevines in full bloom are the perfect touch to the romantic décor Marine has set out for us. In the distance, the castle rises proudly, its walls now bare of vegetation. Thanks to Alex, we have created a protection society and started consolidating it. It is still a long way from its former glory, but stone after stone, we will restore it. After all, we have our entire life ahead of us. A very long one, I hope.
Bruno leans on the lectern next to me, ready to officiate as soon as the time comes.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod. More than ready.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
On the contrary. I’ve never been so calm. My palms aren’t clammy, I’m not tense, and if my heart pounds a little quicker than usual against my ribs, it is out of anticipation and impatience, not nervousness. I am where I should be. Where life has led me to.
With her.
The first bars of “Here Comes the Bride” ring out, and I glance up, searching for a face. Hers. When I see it, I gape at first; then my heart begins to race. She is even more beautiful than in my wildest dreams. An angel. My angel.
Our eyes meet and cling to each other as she glides up the aisle on her father’s arm. I am mesmerized. Time seems to stand still yet fly at the same time. As they reach me, her father slips her hand into mine and says a few words to me. I should be listening, I know, but I can’t. I hear nothing, see nothing. My whole world comes down to her in this moment, and her alone.
She will be my wife, for better and for worse, until death do us part. And beyond.
I squeeze the hand her father has entrusted me with tightly, and Alex beams at me.
She has the world’s most radiant smile. It gives me wings.
“I love you,” I mouth, my gaze on hers.
“I love you,” she shapes silently back.
Beside us, Bruno begins to speak.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
Happiness spreads throughout every part of me, my heart swells in my chest and I am not ashamed to say that my throat is suddenly tight with emotion.
I am happy. Drunk with it. My mind is crystal clear.
After years of running and wandering, I have at last found what I was looking for.
A reason to stay.
In the end, I was wrong. There is such a thing as a happy ending, and Alex is mine.
My fairy tale.
My destiny.
About the Author
As a little girl, Chloé Duval dreamed of knights slaying terrifying dragons and damsels in distress. Today, she’s still seeking, in her stories, to find again the sweetness and the enchantment of the fairy tales she absorbed as a child. A Frenchwoman by birth, Canadian by adoption, and Québecois in her heart, Chloé lives in Montreal with her prince charming and dozens of characters jostling around inside her head.
-o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share