MALIA’S POV

Claire jumped right in. “Oh, and we can have the reception catered by that incredible chef from the city. What was his name again? Pierre something. His food is to die for. And the cake! We’ll need something spectacular—a multi-tiered masterpiece with intricate designs and sugar flowers.”

Lily’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she chimed in. “And we can have the finest champagne, imported directly from France. We’ll spare no expense, Malia. You deserve the best.”

I appreciated their enthusiasm, truly, but the more they talked, the more I felt a sense of unease creeping in. I didn’t want a spectacle. I didn’t want to be the centre...