Chapter 80

Yoko

Months have passed, and somehow, in the blink of an eye, we're here.

At the beginning of something new. At the start of forever.

My application to the University of Edinburgh? Accepted. Faye's PhD application? Of course, she got in. She's Faye. This is her alma mater. I never doubted it for a second.

We've spent the last few months preparing, packing, finalising documents and saying goodbyes.

And—oh yeah—planning a wedding.

Because today? Today is the day we say 'I do.' Today is the day I become Yoko Peraya-Apasra.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, heart racing, nerves buzzing.

I'm in a white dress.

Simple. Elegant. Flowing fabric that hugs my frame just right, delicate lace sleeves brushing against my skin. My hair is styled softly, loosely, a few strands framing my face.

And my eyes—God, my eyes. They're filled with so much emotion. So much love.

A knock on the door startles me.

"Hey, kiddo," my dad's voice comes through, gentle, warm.

I exhale, shaking off the nerves before turning around. "Come in."

He steps inside, dressed in a sharp suit, eyes immediately softening when he sees me.

"Wow," he breathes, shaking his head. "You look—"

I raise an eyebrow. "Don't cry, Dad."

He laughs, sniffling. "I'm not crying."

I tilt my head.

He groans. "Okay, maybe a little."

I smile, stepping forward to fix his tie, the way I always do.

"You're really doing this," he murmurs after a moment, his voice thick with emotion.

"I am," I whisper.

"Are you happy?"

I meet his gaze and without hesitation, without a single doubt in my heart—

"Yes."

My dad smiles, pride shining in his eyes. "Then let's get you married, kiddo."

I laugh, taking his offered arm, and together, we step out into the world—

Where my future is waiting for me at the altar.

...

I swear to god, my heart is about to explode.

I stand just behind the grand wooden doors, hands gripping my bouquet way too tightly, feeling my pulse in my throat.

Ink, who has been helping me fix my dress for the last ten minutes, gives me a look through the mirror. "Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting," I say.

"You're literally vibrating."

Okay, fair.

I exhale, trying to calm myself, but my nerves don't listen. I whip my head around, staring at my dad and Ink. "What if I forget my vows?"

Ink deadpans. "Then Faye will still marry you because she's a simp."

I groan. "Ink."

"What? It's true."

My dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, kiddo. You're going to be fine."

"But—"

He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You love her. She loves you. That's all that matters. Just focus on her, okay?"

I swallow, nodding slowly.

Okay. Focus on Faye. Focus on her. Focus—

Before I can spiral further, the music starts, the doors begin to open, my breath catches.

And then—I see her.

Faye.

Standing at the end of the aisle, tall, poised, breathtaking.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored white suit, sleeves neatly folded just enough to reveal her forearms. Hair slicked back, but still a little tousled—effortlessly, unfairly cool.

Expression? Calm. Controlled. The epitome of elegance and ease.

But her eyes? Her eyes betray everything.

Because the moment she sees me, her entire world shifts.

I watch as her chest rises slightly, as if taking a slow, steady breath. As if she's trying to commit this moment to memory.

And god, the way she looks at me—it's like I hold the stars in my hands. Like I'm the only thing in this world that matters.

I feel my own eyes sting, my lips parting in awe. Because I know that look. I've seen it a million times before.

But today? Today, it feels different. It feels like forever.

And as I take my first step down the aisle—towards her, towards my future, towards the love of my life—

I already know that I could forget every single word in my vows and she would still understand.

The moment I reach the altar, Faye takes my hand. Her touch is warm, steady—anchoring.

I breathe in, feeling the weight of the moment settle into my bones.

She smiles, soft and small, just for me and suddenly, the world fades.

It's just us.

The ceremony begins, the officiant's voice a gentle murmur in the background.

But I only have eyes for her. For the woman who has loved me through everything. For the woman I am about to call my wife.

Then—our vows.

And of course, because the universe has a sense of humour—Ham waddles down the aisle, dressed in the world's tiniest bowtie, carrying our wedding rings in a little pouch tied to his back.

The entire room erupts in soft laughter. I hear Engfa cackling in the background. I hear my dad chuckle under his breath.

But I? I only watch Faye.

Because her expression, the way she's looking at me—God, she's looking at me like I'm her greatest love story.

Ham reaches the altar, and the officiant retrieves the rings.

I barely register the moment because now—Faye is speaking and my entire world fucking tilts.

"Yoko," she begins, voice smooth, steady, measured.

"From the moment you walked into my class, loud and unfiltered, challenging everything I said—I knew you were going to change my life."

I swallow.

"You taught me that love is not something to fear, but something to embrace. You taught me that love does not ask us to be perfect—it asks us to be present."

Her fingers tighten around mine.

"With you, I am never alone. With you, I am never lost. With you, I have found the meaning of every poem I've ever loved."

My vision blurs.

"I vow to love you in every language, in every verse, in every moment we share. I vow to hold your hand in every storm, to kiss you in every sunrise, to stand beside you—always, always, always."

I suck in a shaky breath.

"You are the words of my heart, Yoko. And I vow to carry you with me, forever."

The entire room is silent. Not a single sound.

Just... her words and my heart shattering in the best way possible.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking back tears. And then—it's my turn.

I exhale slowly. "Faye," I say, voice softer than I expect.

"You are the most impossible person I have ever met."

There's a ripple of laughter, her lips twitch, amused.

"But somehow," I continue, heart hammering, "you are also the person I have fallen the hardest for."

I bite my lip, trying not to cry.

"You once told me that love is found in the quiet moments. In the spaces between words. And you were right."

Her eyes shine.

"Because I have found love in the way you look at me like I'm the only thing that matters. I have found love in the way you reach for my hand in the dark. I have found love in the way you whisper my name like it's your favourite poem."

I pause, breath hitching.

"You are my home, Faye. My greatest adventure. My always."

She inhales sharply.

I smile, shaking my head.

"And because I love you—" I exhale, eyes locked onto hers, "I vow to be with you in every season, in every storm, in every stolen sunrise. I vow to love you when it's easy, and even more when it's not."

My chest tightens.

"And I vow, for as long as you will have me—to carry your heart, as you carry mine."

A single tear slips down her cheek.

And then—we exchange rings.

Her hands are steady as she slides the ring onto my finger. I do the same. Our fingers intertwine.

The officiant smiles. "By the power vested in me—"

I barely hear the rest. Because the next thing I know—

"You may now kiss."

And suddenly—her lips are on mine.

Warm. Sure. Eager.

I melt.

The crowd erupts into cheers but all I feel is her.

Her lips, soft and utterly perfect against mine. Her hands, cupping my face so delicately. Her love, pouring into me like poetry.

And I know—

This is it. This is the moment I say forever.

When we finally break apart, my breath is shaky, my heart is racing, and my lips feel so incredibly warm.

Faye's eyes stay locked on mine, her fingers still cupping my cheek.

We're married. Married. Holy shit.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant's voice rings through the air, "I now have the honour of introducing—Mrs. and Mrs. Peraya-Apasra."

The entire room erupts.

Applause. Cheers. Whistles. The loudest being from Engfa, who is already clapping like a seal.

"THAT'S RIGHT! MY GIRL IS MARRIED, BITCHES!" Engfa yells.

I laugh breathlessly, shaking my head. Faye exhales, smirking as she leans in, murmuring against my ear. "That woman is unbelievable."

"And yet," I whisper back, "you're the one who chose her as our legal representative."

Faye just smirks. "Because she's the best."

And then suddenly, confetti explodes in the air.

I gasp, looking up as tiny golden petals rain down over us. Faye chuckles, brushing some out of my hair. And then—we are swarmed.

Ink throws herself at me first, squeezing me so hard I almost topple over. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE MARRIED," she wails dramatically.

"Me neither," I gasp, trying not to choke on her death grip.

Then, Marissa and Big pile in, congratulating us like overenthusiastic puppies. Faye barely holds back her laugh.

Then, my dad. "Congratulations, sweetheart," he murmurs, smiling so warmly that I almost cry again.

I hug him tightly. "Thank you, Dad."

And then, he turns to Faye. 

For a moment, they just look at each other. Then—he steps forward and pulls her into a hug.

I stare.

Because my dad never hugs people.

I see Faye tense at first, clearly caught off guard. Then, slowly—she relaxes.

When they finally pull away, he grips her shoulder. "Take care of my daughter."

Faye nods, solemn. "Always."

I exhale.

And finally, the reception begins.

The venue is a dream.

Fairy lights twinkle across the ceiling, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. Tables are lined with soft white roses, elegant centrepieces, and champagne glasses that never seem to empty.

People are talking, laughing, eating—the entire room is alive with celebration.

And Faye? Faye is beside me the entire time.

Hand in mine. Smirking at my friends. Accepting congratulations with her usual cool, composed grace.

Until—

"AND NOW, IT'S TIME FOR THE FIRST DANCE AS WIFE AND WIFE!"

I freeze.

Faye just grins.

Then—she stands, offering me her hand.

I swallow and take it.

The crowd cheers.

Soft music begins to play—something slow, something beautiful. And then, we dance.

Her hands settle gently on my waist, mine rest on her shoulders. We move, slow and steady, like we've done this a thousand times before.

Her eyes stay locked on mine. "Are you nervous?" she murmurs.

I laugh softly. "I wasn't. But now? Maybe."

She chuckles, then she leans in, pressing her lips softly against my forehead. "You're doing perfect, my love."

I melt.

As we move, everything else just...fades.

It's just us.

Us in our own little world, dancing like there's no one else here. Like we have all the time in the world. Like we are exactly where we are meant to be.

And when the song ends, and the crowd erupts into applause—

Faye kisses me.

Soft. Slow. Deep.

And the world just disappears.

...

By the time the last toast is made, Faye's fingers are already wrapped around yet another glass of champagne.

For me, of course.

I laugh, nudging her playfully as she sips for me. "You're going to get drunk at our wedding reception."

She smirks, placing the empty glass down like it's nothing. "I can hold my liquor, love."

"That's what they all say before they pass out," I tease, raising an eyebrow.

Faye tilts her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Would you like to test that theory?"

Her arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against her. Warm. Secure. Mine. I huff, trying to act unaffected, but the way my body melts into hers completely betrays me.

We continue making our rounds, accepting more congratulations, more teasing—especially from Ink and Engfa, who have been relentlessly chaotic all night.

Even my dad, who gives Faye a rather serious handshake. I swear I see the hint of a warning in his eyes, Take care of my daughter.

Faye, of course, meets his gaze with cool confidence, nodding firmly.

And then, finally—finally—the night begins to wind down.

Guests start leaving, the music softens, and then—Faye takes my hand, leading me away and we slip away.

The moment we step inside, I exhale.

The reception was incredible, the celebration was unforgettable, but this? This is what I've been waiting for.

Just us.

Faye closes the door behind us, then turns to me with that look. The one that makes my breath hitch. The one that says, You're mine.

"Finally alone, wife?" she murmurs.

I shiver.

"Wife," I repeat, the word thick with meaning.

Faye hums, stepping forward, crowding into my space. Her hands trail down my arms, fingers grazing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Say it again."

I exhale, feeling my face warm. "Wife."

Her smirk deepens. "Again."

I swat at her chest. "Stop teasing me."

"Never."

Then—she leans in, soft, slow. Lips brushing against mine. "You're mine, Mrs. Peraya-Apasra," she whispers.

I melt.

Her lips press fully against mine, stealing my breath, stealing my thoughts, making me dizzy in the best way possible.

"Shower with me?" she murmurs.

I swallow, nodding.

She smiles, her fingers already tugging at the zipper of my dress.

...

Warm water cascades down our bodies, steam curling in the air. Faye's hands never leaving my skin. They roam, explore and memorise.

"You're beautiful," she murmurs, tracing every inch of me.

My breath hitches as she leans down, lips ghosting over my shoulder, my neck.

"Faye..."

"Mmm?" she hums, pressing soft kisses against my collarbone.

"Stop teasing."

She chuckles, but there's nothing playful about the way she presses me against the cool tile, her eyes dark with love, devotion—

Desire.

"As you wish, wife."

...

Soft sheets, warm skin, a gentle gasp against my lips as she presses me into the mattress, claiming me with slow, deliberate touches.

Lips on lips, a sigh, a moan, a whispered name. 

Breaths tangled, shallow, desperate, trembling. Bodies intertwined, like they were made to fit together.

She takes her time. Loving me. Worshipping me. Like I'm something to be cherished. Something sacred.

Her lips trail slowly—along my jaw, down my neck, over every inch of me, igniting flames in their wake. She moves like she has all the time in the world. Like there is nowhere else she would rather be than right here, unraveling me.

"Faye—" My breath catches as she sinks deeper, tasting, teasing, taking.

And she smiles against my skin, because she knows. She always knows.

Her hands—firm, knowing, reverent—hold me in place as she takes me apart, piece by piece, building me into something new, something undone, something hers.

And when I finally fall apart beneath her, crying out her name, she doesn't stop.

She kisses me—slow, languid, filled with devotion. As if to say, I'm here. I've got you. I always will.

And I do the same for her because she is mine, too.

She trembles in my arms as I return everything she has given me—touch for touch, kiss for kiss, pleasure for pleasure—until she falls into me, shaking, whispering my name like a prayer.

We collapse into each other, breathless, spent, utterly wrecked and completely whole.

Her arms wrap around me, tight, unwavering, safe. She presses a lingering kiss to my forehead, soft, reverent, absolute.

"I love you my wife," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

I press closer, burying myself in her warmth, my lips brushing against her collarbone.

"I love you too, my wife." I murmur, tracing lazy patterns against her bare back.

And as I close my eyes—wrapped in her arms, in the safety of our love, in the quiet promise of forever—I know.

This is just the beginning.

Our forever starts now.