Before Our Dawn| ongoing

twenty

It was the natural course of life, yet parting from her family felt like closing a chapter she had cherished for so long.

She reached out to hold Marcel's hand, finding comfort in his presence. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her parents once more, suppressing the oncoming torrent of tears. Her throat felt tight. "Thank you for everything. For raising me, for guiding me, and for being the best parents a daughter could ask for.

Tarek's face softened, and he pulled both Isra and Marcel into an embrace. "Take care of each other, and never forget that you'll always have a home here," he said.

After a few more heartfelt words and another goodbye, the newlywed couple went their way. Marcel hailed a cab to take them to his apartment, her new home. Officially. She had spent the last two days moving her belongings there, and since she didn't have much to begin with, it made the task easier.

In the back seat of the car, all they were capable of doing was staring at each other. They could hardly speak as though they hadn't fully processed the fact that they were married.

"The photographer will be arriving in about an hour," he said as soon as he closed the front door behind him. She studied the flat with a brand-new sense of wonder. This place was hers as much as it was his. "As much as I want to rid you of that dress and have my way with you, I cannot. We have to wait."

"Is that the only thing on your mind, Marcel?"

She yelped when she was abruptly pulled against his body, his arms wound tightly around her waist. "It's different now that you're my wife. You can't even begin to imagine just how much I desire you."

Her hand latched on to the nape of his neck, guiding him forward for a kiss. "In an hour, I'll be all yours."

Right on schedule, the photographer arrived promptly at one in the afternoon. He was a middle-aged man, wearing an expression of indifference as if he had done this a million times before. Setting up his equipment in the living room, he directed Isra and Marcel to pose by the sofa for their wedding portrait.

They complied, smiling brightly for each shot, their happiness evident in every frame. But in one particular photo, just as the camera was about to capture the moment, Marcel he leaned in and planted a tender kiss on her lips, surprising even the seasoned photographer. The click of the camera caught that spontaneous moment of affection, immortalizing their love in an unscripted, heartfelt gesture.

The photographer's eyebrows raised in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected display of affection. "Well, I must say, you two make a lovely couple," he commented, keeping his hands busy with the camera. "You can definitely feel the love in the air."

"Thank you," he replied casually. "We're just happy to be married."

She blushed like a rose in full bloom.

After two more shots, he packed up his things and left.

"You didn't have to pay him all that money," Isra noted. She didn't mind her husband being generous, but it also wasn't wise to throw money around like it was nothing.

Marcel shrugged with a grin. "I was feeling generous. Besides, it will be worth it. He'll make a portrait and we can hang it over the mantle, so everybody will know that you're my wife."

He met her where she stood in the middle of the parlour. He looked so beautiful, and she didn't think he realized just how much she loved him in that simple moment. "So, it's all about showing off, huh? Well, I hope I live up to your expectations as a wife, Monsieur Moreau."

"You've already surpassed all my expectations, Madam." He leaned in, his lips just inches from hers. "You know, being married has its perks." His fingers glided along her back, itching to tear the dress from her body. "Not that we couldn't enjoy those perks before. But as your husband, it feels... better."