If America Wasn't Selected: A Selection Fanfic

Chapter Twenty-Seven: America

Days later, Celeste had left.

Weeks after that, Maxon and I had our wedding.

A big crowd came, and I wore a great big white wedding dress.

And before we said the I do's, and before we exchanged vows or rings or before the reverend had even said a single word,

I woke up.

I woke up next to Maxon in a big bed in the castle. I saw his face and he saw mine, and we kissed.

"I just had the weirdest dream," I said.

Maxon sat up. "Really? About what?" His blonde hair was spiked up in different directions.

"My dream was about if I didn't get Selected. Like if my name wasn't chosen for the Selection," I explained.

Maxon kissed the top of my head. "That's nothing you need to worry about, America. You were Selected, and I chose you as my wife."

I pushed the hair out of my face and smiled. "Yeah, I guess it's not anything I need to worry about." I leaned in, and Maxon kissed me on my lips.

And then we began our first day in the castle as King and Queen of Illéa.

I felt as if I couldn't be happier, even if I wasn't Selected in the first place.

THE END!