Sparks Will Fly

The dancers were all getting ready. The boys had already reached and were busy taking pictures with the group while popping a "fuchka" every few minutes. The girls were going over the steps one last time and then again running back to be included in the selfies. 

The place filled up slowly; guests trickling in, music blaring up, lights ablaze and flowers adorning a gorgeous stage and marquee. It was her wedding night, and it looked every bit as magical as she'd always imagined it to be. They were all there – her closest relations excited to see the family's baby girl as a bride, her best friends at the ready to execute every wedding dream she'd had since high school, her parents at once ecstatic and on the verge of tears. Everyone so happy, so ready. 

The night was a success. The dancers outdid themselves onstage. Of course, she hadn't expected any less from her group of friends- they took their dancing seriously. The food was splendid and the music made everyone's hearts beat just a little faster. It was so perfect, so colourful. She'd always wanted a firework of a wedding and-

"You're next." 
With a gentle shake of the arm, her cousin snapped her back to reality. This was reality – a dreary waiting area before you got called in to be pronounced married. Murky walls, damp air, splintered wooden chairs and the sole source of support from her family by her side. The only dancers were the butterflies in her stomach, and the buzz of distant traffic the closest thing to music. 

As she gathered her thoughts—Not the wedding I'd planned since Grade 9— he held out a hand to help her get up and enter the room together. She glanced up and saw him looking down with a half guilty and half excited smile. She saw the reason behind the way things stood at present, but she saw so much more. She saw her wedding; and all the fireworks she'd ever need.