The morning sun hit my face like a spotlight, pulling me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. I blinked at the ceiling, heart already thumping with a mix of nerves and excitement. Today. The big day. No more planning, no more lists—just me and Miko, finally making it official by the river.
I rolled over, expecting her warm body beside me, her cat tail curled around my leg like always. Empty. Sheets cool. The house was too quiet—no toddler giggles, no Miko humming in the kitchen. She must have slipped out early with the twins, probably final fittings or something with Elena and Sylvia. Smart—gave me space to get my head straight.
I sat up, scrubbed a hand through my hair, and grabbed the notebook from the nightstand. Vows. I'd scribbled notes last week, but now it was time to finalize. Pen in hand, I stared at the page, words tumbling out: *We met as roommates, thrown together by chance. Survived crazy shit—shootouts, kidnappings, hybrids on the run. We fought, we loved, we built this family. And now we stand here, ready for forever.*
Simple. Honest. Us.
I showered quick, then pulled on the suit from yesterday's shopping: white button-down, black trousers, charcoal vest. No tie—too stuffy for a riverside thing. I checked the mirror: clean shave, hair combed back. Looked good. Felt ready.
A knock rattled the front door—heavy, insistent. I opened it to Boris and Victor, both in rumpled shirts and slacks, grinning like idiots.
"Добър ден, младоженец!" Boris boomed, clapping my shoulder. (Good day, groom!)
Victor laughed, holding up a paper bag. "Brought pastries. Ceremony's in five hours—let's eat before you pass out from nerves."
I let them in, chuckling. "Thanks. Kitchen's this way."
We scarfed down flaky banitsa and fresh coffee at the table, bullshitting about nothing—football, the bar's latest drama, how Boris had finally fixed his leaky roof. Victor helped me adjust my vest; Boris practiced his "best man" speech in broken English, mostly jokes about not dropping the rings.
Four hours flew. With one hour left, Boris checked his watch. "Time to go. We'll head to the river, set up chairs. You follow."
Victor nodded. "Don't be late, or Miko will claw you."
They left in Boris's truck, dust kicking up behind them. I grabbed the ring box—Miko's golden band tucked safe—locked up, and drove the short way to the clearing. The river rushed softly in the background, willows swaying, fairy lights already strung (Elena's handiwork). Elena, Sylvia, and Sara were there early: Elena in a flowy blue dress, Sylvia's fox ears perked under a sun hat, tail swishing as she arranged flowers; Sara in sharp slacks, bossing the caterer about table setup.
The twins were with them. Ava toddled around Sylvia's legs, babbling "how? how?" at everything—the lights, the water, the chairs. Then she stopped, pointed at herself, and said "Ava!" clear as day. Sylvia laughed, scooping her up. Caz sat on a folding chair nearby, stuffing his mouth with a stolen piece of bread from the snack table, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, golden eyes wide and watchful.
I ruffled his hair as I passed. "Save some for later, buddy."
He just stared, crumbs on his chin.
I took my spot at the makeshift altar—a simple arch of woven branches and ribbons—with Boris and Victor flanking me. Boris muttered something in Bulgarian about "nerves like a cat in water"; Victor smirked and translated quietly.
Guests settled—our tiny group filling the chairs. Soft music started from a portable speaker. Then Miko appeared at the edge of the clearing.
God, she was beautiful. White dress hugging her curves, lace sleeves, hem brushing her ankles. Her cat ears poked through a veil of wildflowers, tail swaying gracefully. She walked alone, slow and confident, golden eyes locked on mine. No father to give her away—her past was her own.
She reached me, smiled that wicked little smile. The officiant—a local hybrid-friendly priest—started the ceremony. Vows first.
I cleared my throat, notebook forgotten. "Miko… we met as roommates, thrown together by fate or dumb luck. We survived the crazy stuff—shootouts, kidnappings, running from hunters and collectors. We fought for each other, built a family out of chaos. And now we stand here, by this river, ready for whatever comes next. I promise to love you, protect you, and make you laugh every damn day. Forever."
Her eyes shimmered. She said hers—short, fierce, about finding home in me after years of running. Then the rings: I slid the golden band onto her finger; she slipped the silver one onto mine. Simple, perfect.
"You may kiss the bride."
I did—deep, slow, her tail curling around my waist as cheers erupted from our little crowd.
The rest was a blur: dancing on the grass to the playlist, Elena spinning Sylvia under the lights, Boris and Victor clinking beers. Eating—lamb skewers dripping juice, salads crisp and fresh, cake so sweet it made the twins squeal. Drinking, mostly rakia and beer, toasts flying until cheeks flushed.
At some point, Miko pulled me aside near the willows, voice low and husky. "Tonight, when everyone's gone… you're fucking me until we both collapse from exhaustion."
I grinned, pulling her close. "Deal."
**Caz's POV**
The whole day was chaos—grown-ups rushing, lights twinkling, river whooshing like a giant whisper. Mommy looked pretty in her white dress, ears all fancy with flowers. Daddy stood tall, smiling big.
But finally, during the eating and dancing part, Ava and I got left alone at a little table with fruit and bread. Chance to talk proper—no more baby babble when no one was watching. We'd been waiting months for this, piecing words together from TV and eavesdropping.
I leaned in, whispering. "You remember? Before this?"
Ava nodded, tail flicking, stuffing a grape in her mouth. "Yeah. Past life. I was… sick. Cancer. Hurt a lot. Then… poof. Here."
I blinked. "How old were you?"
She paused, eyes darting like she was thinking hard. "Thirty." Clear lie—her voice wobbled, too high. But I went with it. No point pushing.
"Me? James. Electrician. Fixing wires in girlfriend's place. Zapped. Dead."
Ava's ears flattened. "Ouch."
"Yeah. Ouch."
We sat there, munching, watching the grown-ups dance. Weird being tiny again. But at least we weren't alone in it.