Margaret Mc Garret's backyard was a mess of sequined gowns, well pressed scratchy tuxedos (some with the tags still on), shiny dress shoes and sharp high heels that dug into the green well trimmed lawn. All this, however, seemed mundane in comparison to the plethora of well strewn multicolored flowers and lights that streaked the fence, the gazebo that would serve as an altar, and formed a sort of white-purple carpet in the middle of two groups of meticulously arranged red fold-up chairs. Margaret had done one hell of a fine job in getting everything together. Everything except the bride.

Emilia watched from an upstairs window as more guests flocked Margaret's yard, her heart beating a fairly irregular rhythm in her chest. She wondered now if she'd made a mistake six months ago in accepted Archer's proposal. He'd been so happy that day because his divorce with Rosalia had been finalized. He'd come to her house with a chocolate cake —the cake that had brought them together and after they'd eaten the cake, he'd slipped the ring —a simple gold band with their initials inscribed on the underside— onto her finger. He'd gotten down perfunctorily on one knee and had popped the question. Emilia was not ashamed to confess that she'd cried that day. And for many days after that, she had been weepy. She would be in her office working and tears would just roll down her cheeks unbidden. She was surprised that her co-workers had not referred her to a competent mental asylum.

Margaret had almost pissed her pants the day they'd told her about their wedding. She'd been the first person they had told. They didn't have to tell anyone else. Margaret had literally held a news broadcast to inform everyone else: friends and foes inclusive. In addition to that, she had politely compelled them to have the wedding in her backyard. All expenses catered for. Archer had tried to refuse, his manly need for independence prompting the rejection. But Margaret had been adamant and Archer had finally aquiesced to her request. It was a dream wedding of sorts except that Emilia was feeling strangely ominous.

Many people would say that what she was feeling now was normal. They would be quick to call it the wedding jitters. But these were not your typical wedding jitters. Wedding jitters were founded basing on imaginary fears, on what ifs. What if he doesn't show up? What if he backs out at the last minute? What if the marriage does not work out? Those kinds of things. Emilia's fears, on the other hand, stemmed from thinly veiled threats. Threats that were very real, threats that could materialize, threats from a deranged woman who had once teamed up with a criminal to have her killed, threats from Archer's ex-wife. She knew she shouldn't be giving them much thought. Archer had told her so countless times. But every time her mind was unoccupied, Rosalia's words just found a way to pop in like an unwelcome visitor at a birthday party.

Even now, Rosalia's words reverberated through her mind. Emilia felt regret of the most visceral kind when she thought about her unceremonious visit to Rosalia in prison. She shouldn't have done that. Now, she was filled with all these qualms that she did not know how to assuage. She sighed and leaned her head against the cold, clean window. God, she was a mess.

Margaret entered then, balancing parcels of what was most definitely jewelry precariously in her hands like a skilled waiter. Her eyes settled on Emilia, then the wedding dress which lay like a peaceful corpse on the bed and then Emilia again, her smile leaving her made up face.

"Uh uh girl you are thinking about that bitch again."

Emilia was mildly startled. She'd never heard Margaret swear before. Margaret puffed out her cheeks like a very frustrated school teacher. She sat on the bed, careful not to mess up Emilia's dress and gave her the look. It had always made her squirm and even today she felt like she was going to unravel and spill all her secrets.

"Sit." It wasn't exactly a command but it felt like one. Emilia sat on the edge of the bed.

"I had an ex once. Long ago. Gosh a really, really long time ago." Margaret blushed. "We broke up over a mutual agreement —at least I thought it was mutual. He even told me that I could move on and eventually, I did. He moved on as well. He fell in love with alcohol, became vicious. He was a mean drunk."

Emilia saw something dark pass over her face but it was gone so fast she thought she'd imagined it.

"Anyway, the moral of the story is that there are not many people in this world who are mature enough to let go of a relationship. And Rosalia is just one of them. So what if she is muttering curses in her jail cell. The fact remains that she is in jail. She is not getting out at least for seven to nine more years. There is nothing she can do."

Emilia wanted to say that there were many people who had committed crimes while in prison. She watched too many crime shows and frankly speaking, they were doing more harm than good in terms of alleviating her paranoia.

"Emilia darling, the world is your oyster but it's not going to just hand you the pearls. You go pick them yourself. Also, I spent half my fortune on this wedding so if you don't go out there and marry Archer, you are gonna have one hell of a debt to repay."

Emilia felt like a football team after a pep talk in the locker room. She was hyped—hyped enough to marry the man she loved, the man who had shown countless times that he could sacrifice everything and anything for her. She could do this.

Emilia raised her lipstick to Margaret. "Would you like to help?"

Margaret arched a brow, the hints of a smile on her face. "Only because you begged."

And that is how Emilia got ready for her wedding, walked downstairs, judiciously officiated a small battle between Margaret and Elizabeth over who was to walk her down the aisle, eventually walked with Elizabeth down the makeshift aisle, flunked by her partner Will and their jolly two year old son Billy, amidst a heckle of oohs and aahs and wows and good natured gasps until she reached a very elegantly clad Archer. His navy blue tuxedo looked immaculate on his trim body. He'd let his hair fall over the left side of his face making him look like the lead singer in a boy band. He was handsome and she was definitely going to jump his bones after the wedding civilities were over.

Archer took her hand and kissed her on the mouth passionately. Emilia wondered why she'd been doubting this marriage. The smell of him, the taste of him intoxicated her and the wedding passed by in a blur of vows, signatures, well wishes, too many pictures and more stolen kisses.

Emilia couldn't go without noticing Rukelle's absence. She'd received back her invitation with the "Not Attending" option circled in red. Deep down, Emilia had been hoping that she would come. Rukelle had become distant since the conclusion of the Harleigh case. To everyone. Even Archer. She'd taken an indefinite leave of absence from the station and no one knew why. Emilia had been hoping that Rukelle's attendance of her wedding would be a salient sign of her approval. Emilia assumed that Rukelle's absence meant that she did not approve.

Elizabeth called out to her with a smile on her face "It's time to throw the bouquet." She turned to everyone else and shouted. " Guys, Emilia's throwing the bouquet."

A few of the female guests flocked together behind Emilia who threw the bouquet from the gazebo a little in Elizabeth's general direction so that she could catch it. Elizabeth was up to the challenge and literally jumped over everyone else to snatch the bouquet. Elizabeth had once told her that Will kept postponing the marriage for some reason or the other. Maybe this would be the push Will needed to finally marry her. They had a two year old son after all. What more did he want?

"Time to cut the cake." Archer hugged Emilia from behind and kissed her neck. This man was her husband. He was hers for the rest of her goddamn life. She let him guide her to the cake which was a beautiful coalescence of floral prints and designs that made it look decadent without even eating it. The guests counted down from three to one and together Archer and Emilia cut the cake. The gifts were brought then with more well wishes for their felicity.

No one noticed a man with horn rimmed glasses, his hair held upright with a red bandana dressed in worn blue jeans that were ripped at the knees and a white dress shirt walk in holding a red gift box. He squeezed through the crowd and placed the gift on Emilia's lap so that when the guests began chanting for her to open the gifts, it was his that she opened first. The man had wanted to stay, to see her reaction when she opened it but that was not part of the plan and he left the way he'd come, disappearing into the throngs of people like a cockroach between floor boards.

Emilia began to open the red gift box with the excitement and anticipation that always came with opening gifts. She looked like a child on their birthday. She heard the ticking sound before she saw what was in the box and gasped.

Emilia threw the box as far away as she could. She yelled for everybody to get down. Archer fell on top of her and covered her ears against the explosion. Emilia watched in horror as the decorations —the ones that had cost Margaret a couple hundred dollars— went up in bright orange flames. She was aware that people were screaming but she could not hear them over the buzz in her own ears. There was an ominous shatter of glass and a scream that could only be termed as blood curdling. This was Rosalia's doing. It had to be.

And as she covered her ears, she became aware that she could not live her marital life in this place.  She, as well as, Archer needed to move away, to start afresh, to rise anew like phoenixes from the ashes. Otherwise such things would continue to happen.