The bride and the beast (#3 of the Miller family)

1. Not until now

Lila’s P.O.V.

I stared at my own reflection in the mirror, my blue eyes widening as I took in the sight before me. The wedding dress clung to my curves, delicate lace tracing patterns down the bodice before cascading into layers of soft tulle that pooled around my feet like a cloud. My fiery red hair was piled elegantly half atop my head, with a few loose strands framing my face, softening the sharp lines of my jaw while the rest of my hair fell down my back in long curls. I looked like a bride from a storybook, the kind I used to imagine when I was a little girl. But something about the image felt distant now, almost as though I was looking at someone else, someone who wasn’t the real me. Not the real Lila.

I reached up, tracing a finger along the delicate lace that wrapped around my shoulders, feeling the texture beneath my touch. The dress was beautiful, almost too beautiful, and it fit me perfectly. It had been the one I had dreamed of since Brandon and I started talking about marriage, and yet, as I stood there, fully adorned in it, something felt off. I tilted my head slightly, studying the expression in my own eyes. There was a softness there, a sense of calm. But was it the calm of contentment, or the stillness of resignation?

I had always been a practical girl, even as a child. I had learned early on that the world didn’t offer the kind of love that swept you off your feet and carried you away to happily ever after. My parents had been a perfect example of that—more strangers living under the same roof than lovers, exchanging words like business partners negotiating a contract. Love, as I had witnessed it, was a functional thing, an agreement to support each other through life’s trials, to share a home and responsibilities. Passion and romance were luxuries, not necessities.

When Brandon had come into my life, I had seen a good man in him—reliable, steady, the kind of person you could build a life with. He had a warm smile and kind eyes, and he made me laugh from time to time. He was safe, like a lighthouse in a storm. And I needed that stability. The years of dating had been comfortable, and I had told myself that comfort was enough, that it was the foundation of something lasting, something real. I had never burned for Brandon, not the way Bridgerton's Simon described burning for his Daphne, but I had never questioned it either, since it was a TV show, and clearly not real life.

So, I never questioned it...

Not until now.

I turned slightly, watching as the light from the window caught the diamonds in my earrings, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the room. My heart should have been racing right now, but it wasn’t. It was steady, almost too steady, as if it didn’t know how to beat faster. As if it had forgotten how. Was this what love was supposed to feel like? This calm, this certainty that nothing would change, that everything would stay exactly as it was? Forever...

Was that what I wanted?

I bit my lip, a small crease forming between my brows as I continued to gaze at my own reflection. I could hear the distant sounds of my bridesmaids laughing in the next room, the muffled conversations of guests arriving below in the biggest room of the city hall inside this tiny town I had never been in before. This place was alive with the sounds of a wedding day, my wedding day, and yet I felt strangely detached from it all, as if I was watching someone else’s life unfold.

I loved Brandon. I did. I loved him in a way that was quiet, and steady, like the ebb and flow of the tide. But as I looked into my own eyes, I wondered if that was enough. Was it enough to marry someone you loved but didn’t long for? Someone you cherished but didn’t crave? Was it enough to build a life on a foundation of friendship, without the fire that people always talked about? The kind of love you would read about or see in movies?

My hand dropped to my side, and I took a deep breath, the fabric of the dress rustling softly as I moved. I was about to walk down the aisle, to make a promise that would bind me to Brandon for the rest of my life. It was a good match, I knew that. We were good together. We had a rhythm, an understanding that made things easy. And maybe easy was all I needed. Maybe I didn’t need the kind of love that consumed me, that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. Maybe that kind of love didn’t even exist in the first place.

I had never seen it, not in my own life, and not in the lives of those around me. The idea of it seemed like a fantasy, something from movies and books and clearly not real life. Real life was about compromise, about choosing someone who would stand by you, who would weather the storms with you. And Brandon was that person. He was my safe harbor.

But as I stood there, looking at the woman in the mirror, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. A small, quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered doubts, questions I didn’t want to ask, fears I didn’t want to acknowledge. What if I was wrong? What if there was more to love than what I had settled for? What if, by choosing safety, I was giving up something I didn’t even know I wanted?

The knock on the door startled me, pulling me from her thoughts.

“Lila? It’s almost time,” came the soft voice of one of my bridesmaids.

I blinked, shaking my head as if to clear it. I took one last look at myself, at the dress, at the life I was about to step into. It was the right choice.

It had to be.

“Coming,” I called back, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside me.

I turned away from the mirror, the vision of myself in the wedding dress fading as I moved toward the door. I knew what was expected of me, and I would do it. I would walk down that aisle, take Brandon’s hand, and say the words that would tie our lives together. And maybe, in time, the doubts would fade. Maybe, in time, I would come to believe that this was all I had ever wanted.

But as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder at the mirror, half expecting to see a different woman standing there, one who was certain, one who was ready. But the only woman I saw was one having doubts.

“s**t…” I whispered to myself.

“Give me five more minutes!” I shouted to the room next to mine, trying to keep my voice even and calm, as I closed the door of the hallway and looked into the hall of the city hall building, a building I had never stepped foot in before today. My breath came in shallow gasps as I stepped out of the bridal suite, the heavy door closing softly behind me. The noise of the bustling preparations faded to a dull hum as I moved down the hallway, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. I wasn’t sure where I was going, only that I had to find Brandon. He would know what to say, how to calm me, how to bring me back to the steady ground I so desperately needed.

My heels clicked against the polished floors, the sound echoing in the vast, unfamiliar corridors of the city hall building. The place was a maze, with its long hallways and grand rooms, each one more imposing than the last. I had never been here before—Fairview was a small town, and Brandon and I had only chosen it because his mother had insisted. The city hall was grand and old, with an air of history that made me feel even more out of place. The building was a relic of another time, all dark wood, high ceilings, and ornate fixtures. It was beautiful, but intimidating, a world away from the simple life I had known before meeting Brandon and his parents with their country clubs and grand lives.

I turned a corner and found myself in yet another hallway, lined with tall windows that let in streams of sunlight. Outside, I could see the small town stretching out before me, quiet and serene, its streets lined with trees and quaint houses. It was the kind of place where life moved slowly, where people knew each other by name. I had grown up in a big city, surrounded by noise and movement, and this quiet felt suffocating.

My hands shook as I grasped the folds of her dress, lifting the heavy fabric slightly off the floor as I hurried forward. I had to find Brandon. He was always so calm, so composed, the opposite of the storm raging inside me. He would know how to make me see reason, to remind me why we were here, why this was the right choice.

The panic that had been a dull throb in my chest was now a sharp pain, constricting my throat and making it hard to breathe. I didn’t belong here. This wasn’t my world, my life. This was Brandon’s world, his family’s legacy, and I was just a guest, a visitor who didn’t know the rules. I had been swept along in the tide of their plans, their expectations, until I found herself standing on the brink of a future I wasn’t even sure I wanted right now.

I reached a grand staircase that spiraled downwards, the banister gleaming under the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. The staircase looked like something out of a movie, too grand for a place as small as Fairview. I hesitated for a moment before grasping the banister and beginning my descent, my legs trembling slightly as I navigated the steps. My dress rustled around me, the lace brushing against my skin like a reminder of everything I was about to commit to.

At the bottom of the staircase, I found myself in a large foyer, the marble floors slippery beneath my feet. There were more doors here, leading to who knew where, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I was completely lost. The building was enormous, and I had no idea where to start looking for Brandon. I had assumed he would be nearby, maybe checking on the final details, making sure everything was perfect, but now I wasn’t so sure. I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me as I stood there, unsure of which way to go, unsure of anything anymore. The walls seemed to close in around me, the ornate decorations suddenly too much, too heavy, suffocating me.

I passed through another set of doors, finding myself in a long corridor lined with portraits of stern-looking men in formal attire. They seemed to watch me as I passed, their eyes following my every move, judging me, questioning my right to be here. I averted my gaze, feeling like an intruder in a world that wasn’t mine.

Finally, I spotted a figure at the end of the corridor, his back to me as it seemed as if he looked out of a window. My heart leaped as I recognized him—Brandon, standing there, calm and composed as always. Relief flooded through me, so powerful that I nearly stumbled as I quickened my pace, but then, as I came closer and saw what was really going on, I froze, seeing that Brandon wasn’t alone at all.