Camila

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I didn’t see the same woman who I’d seen hours earlier, back at my house. Gone was the frizzy, braided hair and the bloodshot eyes. The woman in this reflection was radiant, the way I’d always imagined a bride should be.

When we pulled my dress from the backpack, it looked like it had been stowed away in a ball because it had. Mia ironed the long white sundress, erasing the wrinkles and making it crisp. Wearing a pair ...