FOUR YEARS LATER

I have always loved colour at weddings. All-white themes, while elegant, have never been my thing—they feel a little lifeless, too staged. But the bouquet in my hands, vibrant yet subtle, reflects exactly how I feel inside—overflowing with warmth, love, and happiness.

The room is filled with people who matter. Friends, family, those whose presence radiates positivity, turning this day into something even more magical. The church is adorned with delicate arrangements, flickering candles, and soft chiffons draping every corner. Gentle laughter and quiet conversations blend together, creating a symphony of love and familiarity. My heart beats wildly in my chest, a rhythm in sync with the energy around me.

I scan the room, spotting Sylvia first—dressed in a silver mini, effortlessly edgy and a little too sexy for the occasion, but undeniably her. Her date, in a soft pink dress—more modest but equally chic—looks at her with pure adoration. A few seats down, Chrys and Ed sit hand in hand, matching in color, glowing in love.

To my right, Niall and Gemma sit with little Natalie between them. Niall catches my eye, flashing a grin before turning his attention back to Gemma, his hand instinctively resting on the small bump beneath her lace dress. She looks stunning—her hair cascading in waves, dimples on full display, radiating the kind of happiness that only love can bring.

Further down, I spot Chase, who, like a five-year-old, waves at me excitedly. A small laugh escapes me, and I wave back, shaking my head. His girlfriend, ever attentive, fixes his shirt, her eyes soft with devotion—the same way I look at Harry. They sit beside Liam and Nadine, a couple so strikingly gorgeous it seems unfair to the rest of the world.

To my left, Annie, Tom, Kendall, and more familiar faces from the club, followed by my brother and parents, all dressed as if they've stepped out of a classic film.

And then, I see him.

My breath catches.

Everything else fades into the background.

Harry.

His eyes sparkle, his smile—that smile—gifted only to me. For a moment, I forget where I am. He is the only person in the room. And he is mine.

His hair is shorter now—don't even get me started on how I nearly fainted when I first saw those beloved curls gone—but it suits him. Brushed back just enough to reveal his sharp jawline, his long, delicious neck. He winks at me as I take my place, and just like that, the whole world clicks into place.

And then the "I do's" are spoken, echoing through the church.

A loud cheer erupts, followed by a wave of applause, filling the space, filling my heart. A joy so overwhelming it spills from my eyes, trailing warm, happy tears down my cheeks.

This—this moment—is perfect.

"Attention, please!" Harry calls out, tapping his champagne flute with his fork before setting it down.

A chorus of "Speech! Speech! Speech!" erupts from the crowd, and with a wide grin, he rises to his feet, his fingers absently brushing over the white tablecloth.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." he begins, and laughter ripples through the room.

Turning toward me, his hand instinctively searches for mine. He lifts it gently, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles before continuing.

"Ella, darling, you are my everything. The day I met you was the day I started breathing."

My throat tightens, my eyes threatening to betray me with tears.

"Don't you dare cry, baby. Lou will have my ass if you ruin your makeup," he teases, earning another round of laughter. I chuckle too, despite the emotions flooding me.

"I love you to the moon and back, baby," he adds with a cheeky smirk.

Then, in his best wise scholar voice, he recites,
"Robert Fulghum once said—
'We are all a little weird, and life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness and call it true love.'"

"Get your own fucking words, Styles!" Ed heckles, making the whole room burst into laughter.

"Shut up, Gingerhead," Harry fires back, grinning like a mischievous kid.

"As I was saying," he clears his throat dramatically, "life surprises us in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes, we meet the love of our life during an interview... or, in the case of today's bride and groom, inside Burberry headquarters."

Another round of applause erupts, and all eyes shift to Jimmy, looking effortlessly handsome in his designer suit. But it's not the suit that makes him stand out—it's the way he gazes at Cindy, pure adoration written all over his face. My goofy, brave, awkward boy—my rock, my friend. He leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and she blushes like a ripe tomato.

"Ever since he met Cindy, he somehow became even weirder—if that's possible," Harry quips, "but, more importantly, he found his match." He looks at Cindy with mock seriousness. "Cindy, you are a saint. Somewhere, right now, a statue is probably being carved in your honour."

Laughter fills the room as Harry clasps a hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"How you managed to tame this wild beast is beyond me."

Then, his voice softens.

"Jimmy, my childhood friend, my partner in crime—you are one lucky son of a bitch. Cindy is incredible, inside and out. Ever since I won that twenty from Lou at the photo shoot, I knew I'd be standing here one day, giving this speech. I knew you were a goner the second this amazing woman called you on your shit the night you came on to her like you were the actual plague."

Another eruption of laughter. Jimmy smirks but stays quiet, letting Harry run the show.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this brilliant, witty woman—almost as witty as my Ella," he turns to me, flashing that signature dimpled grin that melts my insides, "shut this man down. Little did she know, he was too damn stubborn to walk away."

He pauses for effect before shaking his head.

"I made a mistake, though."

"Why?" a voice from the crowd calls out.

Harry squints, trying to pinpoint the speaker. He gives up, shrugging theatrically.

"Because, sir, I could have made a ton more money off this guy."

The laughter that follows is deafening, and even Jimmy throws his head back, laughing.

"I should've started taking bets back then," Harry continues, "because I knew—before he even knew—that Cindy was it for him. From the moment they met, he was doomed. He just didn't realize it yet. Cindy, I gotta give it to you—you didn't make it easy. But this man right here? He loves you with everything he's got, and I have no doubt he always will. So my best of friends, my business partners, my family, I wish you health and happiness, joyous moments and tears of merriment. I wish you of what I have because you really both deserve it," he says moving to kiss Cindy on the cheek. 

"I thought I was your best friend you cheater!" Ed jumps in again and the crowd chants:

 "Shut up gingerhead!"

I love colour at weddings. Always have. It brings warmth, vibrancy—life. Watching my best friend marry the love of his life fills me with overwhelming joy, but having the love of my life beside me makes it even better.

As maid of honour, I have the privilege of witnessing every little reaction—the teary smiles, the hushed giggles, the way people look at each other when they think no one is watching. But the best moment of the day?

 Jimmy's face when he saw Cindy walking down the aisle, her graceful wedding dress flowing behind her, bouquet mirroring mine. It was as if the sun had just risen for the first time—pure wonder, as though his heart might actually explode from all the love he felt for her. She'd put him through hell, but to be fair, she was right to be cautious. Jimmy's reputation did precede him.

From the moment he met her, he was intrigued. She wasn't like the girls he usually went for—excuse my language, but those were mostly all tits and no brains. Cindy was different. She challenged him, made him curious. But most importantly, she won him over with her kindness—when she risked her own job to help me during the Ferguson mess. That was what really sealed it for Jimmy. She couldn't have known how everything would play out, but maybe, just maybe, fate was on her side.

"To the bride and groom!" Harry's voice pulls me from my thoughts. Glasses clink as the guests echo his words, raising their drinks in celebration.

As he sits back down, he leans in, his nose brushing against my cheek as his hand settles on my thigh.

"I can't wait to get you back to ours. You look stunning, baby."

The same effect. Every. Single. Time. My body tingles, a slow warmth spreading through me, but I shake my head.

"Harry, behave." I try to sound firm, but he just grins.

"Whaaa?" That damn lazy t.

"We can't leave early, I'm warning you. Don't even think about it." I wag my finger playfully in his face.

He catches it between his lips, biting down gently.

"But with Jimmy gone on his honeymoon, I have to cover for him at the club. Two weeks, babe. And with Fashion Week coming up—"

I silence him with a kiss. The same result. Butterflies. And more butterflies.

"I love you," I whisper, my hands cradling his face, getting lost in his green eyes.

"I love you more," he murmurs before stealing another kiss.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and with a reluctant sigh, he pulls away.

"Babe, I need to get this. It might be the club."

I nod. Being the co-owner of the hottest club in town has its perks, but it's demanding. Three years ago, he and Jimmy took a leap of faith. They found an old factory up for rent and turned it into something spectacular. A year of planning, endless modelling and bartending gigs to fund it, and finally, two years ago, To the Moon was born. It was a hit from day one.

They swore the business wouldn't ruin their friendship. So far, so good. They only bartend occasionally, and only when friends are around for old times' sake.

Harry slides his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to me.

"This could be us, you know," he says suddenly, squeezing my hand.

I tilt my head.

"We could have our wedding at the beach, just like you always wanted. In Cyprus. At that hotel you loved so much."

"Soon," I say.

"But you always say that!" He huffs like a child denied candy.

"Patience, Harry."

"But you said yes. We've been together for so long. I want this for us." His voice is full of conviction, his passion unmistakable.

"I get it, baby. I know you think marriage is just a piece of paper, but I like this. I want the whole thing—the ceremony, the flowers, our friends and family gathered together, Jimmy's terrible speech, Ed making some inappropriate joke, the dance. I want it, Ella. I want you."

He's so earnest, so Harry, that I can't help but giggle.

"Patience."

"But why? What are we waiting for?"

I press a kiss to his nose, grinning.

"You'll have to wait just a little bit longer."

"Why? Tell me one good reason why."

I smirk.

"Because I don't want to look fat on my wedding day."

His brows furrow.

"But why would you—" And then it hits him.

His eyes go wide.

"Oh my fucking God. Jimmyyyyyyyy!"

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Thank you for reading this story. I have edited and refined it as much as I could. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.