Isadora''s eyes sparkled, bright and lively, shimmering like starlight dancing across


    a midnightke. Her lips curved as she broke into a radiant smile.


    She teased, "Mr. Fitzgerald, if we don''t hurry, city hall will close for the day."


    Victor paused, then a subtle smile yed on his lips, his dark eyes softening with warmth.


    He reached for her hand, and together they started toward city hall, each step measured and sincere.


    His tall, upright figure cast a broad shadow that enveloped herpletely, as if to say that no matter whaty ahead, he would shield her from it all.


    Their palms pressed together, warm and slightly mmy; it was impossible to tell whose nervousness was whose.


    Suddenly, a thought struck Isadora. She tugged him to a stop.


    Victor turned, a hint of concern in his voice. "What''s wrong?"


    Isadora bit her lip. "Before we register, shouldn''t we sign a prenup or something?"


    After all, their difference in wealth was pretty significant.


    If—well, if they ever divorced, she''d be entitled to half his fortune.


    Victor''s voice dropped, low and serious. "Isadora, where do youe up with these ridiculous ideas, hmm?"


    She could hear the annoyance in his tone and stuck out her tongue yfully. "Just making sure. Didn''t want you to say I never warned you."


    The next instant, his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close until she was pressed firmly against him.


    Above her, his voice rang out, steady and certain, each word deliberate. "Listen to me, Isadora. In this life, unless I die, there''s no way we''ll ever be apart."


    ...


    They entered city hall, took a numbered ticket from the machine, and walked over to window number eight.


    Victor handed over their documents.


    The clerk inspected their paperwork carefully, then looked up. "Where''s your wedding photo?"


    Victor and Isadora exchanged nces.


    They hadn''t taken one!


    It was their first time registering for marriage-neither had thought of it.


    Seeing their faces, the clerk seemed


    t room. "You can take the


    photo next door, then


    Jazed. She gestured t


    me Back."


    Victor and Isadora made their way to the photo studio.


    It was a simple room-just a floor-to-ceiling red backdrop and a boxy camera set up in front.


    Victor wore a crisp, tailored white shirt and ck trousers, his posture unusually upright andposed.


    Isadora had on a loose blue-and-white dress-fresh, pretty, her eyes bright with anticipation.


    Standing side by side, their clothes brushed ever so slightly. They stood so close that Isadora was sure she could hear his heartbeat, echoing her own: thump, thump.


    The photographer adjusted the


    Ing for the perfectet


    angle. When he found it, he called “Alright, you two-big smiles!"


    As the sh went off, Victor''s left hand instinctively found Isadora''s right. Both of


    them beamed at the camera.


    Click. The moment was captured.


    For an instant, it felt as if time had paused just for them.


    Ten minutester, Isadora picked up the finished photo from the photographer.


    She ran her slender fingers over the glossy print, tracing every detail of that small, red-tinted picture.


    In the photo, the two of them leaned close together, their smiles bright and genuine—a perfect pair.


    Isadora had seen plenty of Victor''s smiles: gentle ones, teasing ones, coolly reserved, mischievous, or aristocratic.