Love Me, Mikayla

XI

Collage is given above!

. . .

MIKAYLA

. . .

The ceremony starts as the priest recites a sermon, emphasizing the importance of the sacred bond of marriage. To us, and the guests. Everybody is silent as the voice of the respected man echoes within the high and artistic walls.

The words are especially recited to me, who had no idea why the bond is sacred and how it is beautiful in God's eyes.

I listen to him, feeling my chest becoming heavier with each passing second as I realize how big the responsibility is.

I feel my palms becoming sweaty. Through the net barrier, I decide to steal a glance at Barak and when I realize he has been looking at me along, I look away immediately as if caught stealing something.

For how long has he been gazing at me like that? Doesn't he have anything else to do?

When he still doesn't look away, I pinch his palm, breaking all his trance. Soon the dreamy look in those ocean eyes is replaced by a warning glare, along with a frown that masks his face.

Biting back a giggle, I stick my tongue out, keeping in mind that the priest isn't watching us.

He shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath. I catch his lip-syncing as he mutters the word, "बुद्धू। "

(Stupid.)

How dare he call me that? Twisting my rosy bottom lip, I run my gaze down his side appearance as now he is looking at the priest.

His blond hair is set back, neat, and shiny. His cheekbones are high and jaw set. He carefully listens to the priest and the words he is delivering. In the middle, he steals glances at me and once again, I pinch his wrist, earning myself another glare.

It's fun annoying him. Especially when I do it on such serious occasions. Because he can't do anything, I take advantage of it.

I smirk. You were so fond of holding my hands, weren't you, Blondie? Now bear the consequences like a good boy.

Though he warns me through his raging ocean eyes, I continue pinching him over and over again. In the end, getting fed up, he grips my fingers in his palm firmly and I can't help but gasp behind the veil.

It shouldn't have happened.

It seems to catch the attention of the priest yet his lips don't stop chanting. However, he couldn't hold a smile and lowered his face to hide it.

It's time to dig a hole and lie into it, Mikayla.

Once done, we are asked to exchange the wedding vows. I expect the priest to ask us which simply happens according to the traditions but confusion masks my face when we are given the Holy Bible.

Still not understanding the gesture, I look at Barak who is flipping the delicate pages of the Holy Bible gently.

"Barak," I almost whispered, not even believing that he would hear me but he did.

He looks at me, raising his brows.

With my gesture, I call him closer. He does, bending his face so that I can speak right in his ear. However, first I am attacked by the fresh fragrance of sandalwood along with roses and musk that exudes from him. I try not to react to it or inhale more of it like a needy person in his proximity.