The courthouse was bustling with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional click of women’s heels against the polished marble floor. Amidst the organized chaos of a busy afternoon, Fiona walked in, and her entrance turned more than just a few heads. 

Her white dress, a beautiful and cute flowing piece of art that was chosen with care by her and Dwyne earlier that day, seemed unworthy of her body. The dress didn’t make her beautiful. She made the dress worth looking at. It became a masterpiece just because she was wearing it.

 Every step she took, despite the slight limp caused by the crutch she leaned on, gained...