By the time the evening settles into its richest hour, the reception has lost the last traces of ceremony and become something looser and warmer. The music continues without demanding attention, conversation flows freely between tables, and the gentle clink of glassware blends with laughter that no longer carries restraint.
Willow sits beside Zane at the long table arranged for family and closest friends, her chair angled slightly toward him without conscious thought. The fatigue from the first dance has softened into a manageable heaviness, and the quiet rest has restored enough strength that she feels present again rather than merely enduring. The warmth of the room settles around her in a comforting way, and the steady rhythm of conversation and music allows her to remain anchored in the moment without feeling overwhelmed by it.
Zane watches her more than he watches anything else.
Not openly. Not in a way anyone would comment on.
