The days that followed Lily's acceptance of the prince's proposal were a whirlwind. Word spread quickly, as it always did in the seaside village of Evermore. By morning, the baker's wife was already asking what color the wedding gown would be, and by noon, two elderly women were at Lily's door offering lace they had kept for "a noble occasion." Everyone seemed to move with excitement except Lily herself.
She sat by her window that evening, looking out at the waves again. The same sea that had once cradled her dreams, now seemed to mock her silently. Two years. Two long years of hope, of searching, of waiting. And yet, here she was agreeing to marry a man she did not love.
The prince had been nothing but kind. He didn't rush her. He let her set the date. He spoke gently, treated her with respect, and left her alone when she needed space. He even instructed the palace staff to give her full control over the wedding plans.
Still, Lily's heart ached.
She pressed the shell Sam had given her to her lips. She still carried it with her, every single day, tucked into the folds of her dress. Sometimes she would dream of him his voice, his laugh, the way his eyes squinted when he smiled and she would wake up with tears dampening her pillow. And now, with every step closer to the wedding, the dreams grew more vivid and the guilt heavier.
---
The village had split into opinions. Some celebrated her decision openly, speaking of how noble she was to move forward. Others whispered behind curtains and in corners.
"I can't believe she's marrying the prince," one market woman said loudly as Lily passed. "Only two years. That's all it took."
"She loved Sam," another replied, more quietly. "Maybe still does. But what choice does she have? Life moves on."
"But shouldn't she wait longer? Maybe he's still out there…"
Lily didn't turn back. She had learned to keep walking. She carried her guilt like a second skin now too familiar to ignore, too heavy to shed.
That night, as she helped her sister sort through fabrics for the wedding, Lily's mother entered the room. Her face was calm but concerned. She sat beside Lily and took her hand.
"You don't have to do this," her mother said softly. "If your heart truly isn't in it."
Lily looked down, twisting the edge of the blue silk in her fingers. "But what if this is my only chance at peace? I've waited so long, Mama. I've searched until my bones ached. Sam wouldn't want me to keep drowning in sorrow."
Her mother nodded slowly. "He wouldn't. But he also wouldn't want you to feel forced. Just promise me, whatever you choose, it's because you believe in it."
Lily smiled weakly. "I don't believe in anything anymore. But maybe… maybe I can learn to."
---
Preparations moved forward with graceful speed. The prince's servants brought in fine linens and rare spices from across the sea. The village's best seamstress began working on a gown made from silk and lace, with a bodice stitched by hand. White roses were planted around the main square, and children were rehearsing songs to sing on the wedding day.
Yet Lily spent more time in silence than joy.
Each fitting felt like a betrayal. Each flower she picked for the bouquet made her think of the wild daisies Sam once tucked into her hair.
She tried to act happy, for everyone's sake. She smiled when spoken to. She nodded politely at compliments. She sat beside the prince at dinners and responded gently when he asked about her preferences. He never pushed. He never expected her to pretend. But that made it worse, somehow. His kindness only deepened her guilt.
One morning, as she was walking along the cliffside alone, old Mrs. Harrow approached her with a wicker basket of dried lavender.
"Thought you might want these for the ceremony," the old woman said.
"Thank you," Lily replied, taking the basket.
Mrs. Harrow gave her a look that pierced through her.
"I knew Sam," she said suddenly. "He used to bring me fish before sunrise. Always asked if I needed anything. Sweet boy. He loved you deeply."
Lily felt her throat tighten.
"I know," she whispered.
"But," the woman continued, "sometimes love disappears into the world and never returns. And we, the ones left behind, must find a way to live. That's not betrayal, my dear. That's survival."
Lily blinked away tears. "I just don't want to forget him."
"You won't," Mrs. Harrow said. "You'll carry him. But you'll carry him in a heart that's still beating. Don't let your heart stop just because his did."
---
That night, the prince knocked gently on Lily's door. She opened it, expecting a brief greeting, but he stood there with a small wrapped box in his hand.
"I know this time has been hard for you," he said. "I only wanted to give you something. No expectations."
Lily took the box and opened it slowly. Inside was a necklace simple, delicate, with a tiny charm shaped like a boat on a silver chain.
Her breath caught.
"I saw you looking out at the sea one morning," the prince explained. "And I thought maybe… you needed something to hold on to. Not to forget him. But to remember him in peace."
Lily looked up at him, and for the first time, she felt something shift. Not love. Not yet. But a soft recognition that maybe the man in front of her understood more than she'd given him credit for.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He bowed his head slightly. "Whatever happens, I only want you to be alright."
---
The days passed quickly now. The wedding was scheduled for the end of spring, just as the cherry blossoms began to bloom along the village's main path. Children were rehearsing songs. The village square was being cleaned and painted. Everyone seemed to be preparing for a celebration.
But inside Lily, there was still a storm.
She sat by the fire one evening, speaking with her cousin Mara, who had traveled from another town to help with the ceremony.
"Are you happy?" Mara asked plainly.
Lily hesitated. "I'm… trying."
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Lily. Not even to yourself."
Lily shook her head. "But that's just it. If I don't move forward, I'll stay stuck in the past forever. I'll never laugh again. I'll never dream again. I have to try."
Mara smiled gently. "Then that's enough. Trying is enough."
---
The night before the final dress fitting, Lily went to the sea one last time alone.
She stood barefoot on the shore, waves lapping at her toes, the sky dark and calm above. She held the shell Sam gave her in one hand, and the prince's necklace in the other. One was a memory. The other, a future.
She whispered to the wind, "I'll always love you, Sam. But I have to live."
And then, she placed the shell gently on the shore, just at the water's edge. The tide took it slowly, without violence, and she watched until it vanished beneath the foam....