Cassandra Russo Gallardo POV I never wanted a big wedding. Growing up, I wasn’t the type of girl who dreamed about flowing white dresses, enough flowers to open a florist shop, or exorbitantly expensive multi-tier cakes. I’m perfectly content with what I have—my family in attendance and my man standing proudly at the altar. We’re in a small chapel, tucked away in one of the quieter, more peaceful corners of the city. I’m dressed in the same wedding dress Mom wore when she married Dad, the very same veil on my head. There are no words to describe how honored I am to wear it. I hope one day, I get to pass it on to my own daughter to wear at her wedding, and perhaps even my granddaughter after her. Little things like these, full of sentiment and love, are how traditions are born. Dad and I stand just in front of the main entrance to the chapel. Everyone’s taken their seats, and the music is beginning to swell. I know he had his reservations when I first agreed to marry Thorton, but inst
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