*Roxy*

The tent flutters softly in the cool twilight air. Inside, I sit quietly on a cushioned stool, trying to steady my racing heart.

My gown hangs from a cedar hook near the center post of the tent, swaying gently with the breeze. It’s ivory and luminous, with silver vines shimmering along the bodice, embroidered by hand, and tiny moonstones stitched into the hem and train. It looks like it was made from the stars for the Moon Goddess, spun from mist and light.

I chose it days ago, but seeing it now—waiting—I feel everything all at once: wonder, love, and peace.

My mother steps closer, her eyes glistening. “You’re...