The entire room was glowing, the ceiling and walls glistening with hundreds of little lights. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be getting ready—and yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Lacie, your dress is waiting!”

I turned to see Kyla. Her reproving frown I only smiled back at.

“My dress can wait.”

She gave me a light poke in the side.

“Well, if you really want me to wear it instead…”

We laughed together as I made my way back down the hallway, towards our dressing room. Kyla was right; I only had an hour before everything got underway. There was no time to waste. Inside the dressing room, someone had left us cookies.

Kyla took one, grinned, then extended the plate to me. “Your mom is awesome.”

I grinned back. “She made an even bigger plate for graduation.”

Kyla’s red-brown brows arched. “What? And you didn’t invite me?”

I laughed. “You were too busy celebrating with your 37 relatives.”

Kyla gave a smile of acknowledgement. “Good point. Finishing that degree was definitely something worth celebrating, big time. Though, who would’ve thought I’d find my best friend in the final year of the course?”

I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. I’d met Kyla at college in Zayed-Kharan when I’d enrolled to do my final year of neurology there. We’d become instant friends, and our graduation had been two weeks ago, just in time for today’s celebration.

“I would’ve never expected it, either. This whole past year has been like a dream. A fairy tale.”

Stepping back with a smile, Kyla patted me. “And now, you get your fairy-tale wedding in New York.”

I nodded, although I couldn’t make her confident smile my own. “You really think I’m ready?”

Kyla took my hand, squeezed it, and looked straight into my eyes so that I could see just how serious she was.

“Lacie, I know you’re ready. I’ve seen you and Rashid together. You guys are two peas in a pod, I swear. Whenever you aren’t cracking up over something, you’re deep in some interesting conversation. When you’re with each other, you’re both lit up and glowing. You’re not just right for each other—you’re perfect.”

I hugged her again, overwhelmed with emotion.

“Thank you so much, Kyla. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably just invite that horrible woman you used to be friends with. What was her name?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nadia.”

She’d left me a few more furious voicemails over the last few months, about how Rashid and I were doomed, how I was kidding myself that I could get on without her. The latest ten-minute diatribe, Kyla and I had cackled over, with wine and chocolate.

“Anyway, let’s get you into this dress.”

First, I got out of my clothes. Then, gingerly, we maneuvered my body into the giant, ivory poof. As soon as Kyla had pulled up the back zipper to the top, a figure appeared at the door.

“Oh, Lacie.”

“Mom.”

She threw her arms around me, then, glancing down, jerked backwards.

“Your dress—it’s gorgeous! Oh, my darling!”

She hugged me again. I pressed her close, until her soft skin was against my cheek. Stepping back, she regarded me, my expertly-curled hair, my professionally made-up face, my lace dream of a gown, with tears in her eyes.

“I can’t tell you how happy this all makes me.”

“Oh, Mom.” I hugged her tighter. “This makes me so happy, too. All of this. You getting better. You and Dad being able to come. I’m so glad we waited. You were right.”

When we broke apart again, Mom was sent into a new fit of tears, which even a cookie couldn’t relieve. So, wiping her eyes, she fled from the room, saying, “I’m holding you up, anyway.”

Which wasn’t entirely wrong. Kyla and I checked the time to find that I only had about five minutes before the ceremony started.

Kyla was a flurry of action, grabbing her purse, throwing on her shoes, hurrying so much that she nearly sprinted out the door.

“Oh man, I gotta go! Good luck, girl, see you soon!”

And then she left, leaving me with the entirety of what was about to happen: walking down the aisle to get married to the love of my life. All I had time for was one last look in the mirror at the terrified goddess that was me, and then, I walked out.

My dad was waiting by the wooden doors. It was weird seeing him in a suit—I hadn’t seen him in one in years; he hadn’t even worn one for my graduation. The coiffed hair and close-cut beard didn’t even look like him. But those proud, light blue eyes brimming with tears were unmistakable.

“Lacie…this is…you are…” He held his arms out towards me for a hug. “My darling girl, this is the happiest day of my life.”

Still enwrapped in his arms, I patted his shoulder. “Me too, Dad, me too.”

Just then, the music started. Drawing apart, we exchanged a smile. I held onto his shoulder as he turned his wheelchair towards the aisle.

“Guess it’s time, then.”

“Guess it’s time.”

And then, we were off, and my gaze drifted from the walls and ceiling of lights and the beaming faces of my mom, Kyla, and Rashid’s family, to the only person that really mattered. Rashid.

He had never been more handsome—all clean-shaven and dressed to the nines in a navy, pinstriped suit that looked as if it had been made for him. My breath caught in my throat. The closer we got, the more everything around him blurred, the more the wedding march muffled. Until my dad had left and the minister was saying something.

“Thank you all for coming here today to celebrate Rashid and Lacie’s wedding.”

Rashid, with shining eyes, hand clasping mine so hard it felt like mine might fall off, turned to the crowd.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming and being here with us for this joyous event. We really appreciate your support and are so happy to have you.”

Then, it was my turn. “Dad and Mom, thanks for being here and for supporting me all these years. And thanks to Kyla being the perfect maid of honor and an incredible friend, too.”

The minister turned to Rashid. “Rashid, will you have Lacie to be your wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, keep her—in sickness and in health—and be faithful to her? Do you vow to do this?”

Rashid’s eyes were intense yet happy as he spoke. “I do.”

“Lacie, will you have Rashid to be your husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him, keep him—in sickness and in health—and be faithful to him? Do you vow to do this?"

“I do,” I said.

The older man smiled at both of us. “You may now make what promises you will to each other.”

Rashid was the first to speak, taking a moment to close his eyes and compose himself. When he opened them, they were fixed on me, fully.

“Lacie, I don’t know where to begin. To say that you surprised me would be the understatement of the century; to say that I love you would not do justice to the feeling I have every time I look at you. The first time I met you, I felt drawn to you. Drawn by merely duty, or so I thought. And yet, the more time I spent with you, the more I got to know the beautiful person that you are, the more I grew to realize that duty was the least of it.

“When I look at you, I see my partner, my confidant, my friend. I see a woman who challenges me, complements me, makes me a better man. A woman who makes me laugh and consoles me when I cry. A woman who I am honored to join hands with in marriage. This last year, you’ve made me the happiest man ever, and I look forward to many years of happiness to come.”

His hands were grasping mine, his eyes looking at me adoringly. The crowd was in a hush, and it was my turn.

“My darling Rashid. My darling, wonderful man. I…I’ve rehearsed this about 17 times by now…” I turned to the crowd and froze up. This was too much; I couldn’t do this. But then, Rashid squeezed my hand, and more words came out.

“Yes, I rehearsed this 17 times because I was afraid. I told you that I’ve always hated public speaking, and this is no exception. But what I didn’t tell you, is just how little I fear when I’m with you, how you’ve helped me overcome the greatest of life’s challenges—all through your love.

“Yes, this, here, now. Even standing up to my enemies masquerading as my friends, going back to school, being in the water. Life used to terrify me, but now, it doesn’t. Not anymore. No, when your hand takes mine, with you by my side, I can do anything. Such a man as you, such a loving, tender, kind-hearted, good man, it will be my pleasure to call my husband. I love you more than words can say.”

The silence brought applause, the applause, more silence. And then, the officiant said, “Rashid, you may now kiss the bride.”

And when our lips touched, the room became electric—applause was everywhere, vibrating through the floors, through us, through our very veins. Our whole bodies were alive with love—not just ours, but everyone’s, our friends and families too.

Love was what flowed back and forth from my lips to his and back again, through our clasped hands, through the very walls of the tent.

When we separated, the party began. By the 12^th course, I had lost track of all the delicious dishes we’d eaten, a mix of traditional foods from each of our home countries, plus some personal favorites. Rashid’s influence was obvious in the large bowls of mango sauce on the table (mostly untouched, except for me, of course).

He made sure to point out that, “There’s no salami either!”, a statement which caused me to burst out laughing, much to my parent’s confusion. The cake Rashid cut so poorly, that he and I were forced to finish a huge, towering slice, while our first dance we bungled so badly, we had to gesture at our family to join in and save us the total embarrassment.

And so, we danced. Rashid, his family, me, and mine. All of us danced until our feet hurt from the joyful movement and our faces ached from smiling. And then, at the end of the night, we collapsed into bed together. Rashid and I, man and wife.

* * *

I awoke to her. To her soft, vanilla-scented skin, those parted lips. She giggled when I poked her, and giggled some more, even when my phone rang. She didn’t giggle when I told her who it had been.

“It was Nabil, from the council. I’ve been crowned ruling sheikh.”

Lacie frowned, turning away as she rubbed her eyes. “Oh, go away.”

“I mean it, Lacie. They just called now.”

She sighed. “Can’t we just enjoy this morning, the two of us, newly married, without one of your practical jokes?”

I sat up straight in bed. “Seriously, Lacie, I’m not joking. Look.”

I turned on the TV and gestured at the screen.

There, on the TV, was me. Rather, a picture of me, looking about as happy as I felt now. Behind my picture was the image of a joyful, thronging mass, a sea of waving hands, jubilant cries.

“…celebration today in Zayed-Kharan for the announcement that Sheikh Rashid will be named ruler. After much contention with the council regarding an archaic law and a bride who didn’t meet the criteria…”

The newscaster’s voice faded to nothing as Lacie’s and my hands clasped and we whooped together. Lacie’s blue eyes were wider and more sparkling than I’d ever seen them.

“You’ve done it. You’re king!”

I tried the word out, but each time I said it, it felt as unreal as the last.

“King!” Lacie cried.

“King!” I cried back.

We laughed together and we kissed—her and I, king and queen. When I caught her eye, I let a mischievous smile come over my face.

“I have a confession to make…”

“Oh, no.”

“It was a joke, all of it—the TV broadcast, this, right now, everything.”

For a split second, Lacie almost believed me. Her smile twitched, she caught my twinkling eye, then she grabbed a pillow and whacked me with it, playfully hitting me over the head.

Next, my pillow was against hers and we were flinging them back and forth, laughing, eyes filled with tears, whooping, kissing.

Going home was much the same. When we stepped out into the palace garden, where I was to be crowned, the roads were lined with my cheering people. Every face was jubilant, every arm waving. The whole sky was filled with a cheerful song, and even the birds seemed to be warbling along. Carnation petals were in the air and somewhere, I saw her. Aliya. Smiling.

But no one was happier than my Lacie, clad in a resplendent purple-and-gold robe, waving to the crowd, beaming at her people.

I took her hand and whispered in her ear. “You ready for this?”

“Not a chance.”

I kissed her hand and we laughed. Neither of us were ready, but we had each other, and we had our love. And that was enough. More than enough. It was all we needed.