Clara sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the laptop balanced on the coffee table. Dozens of tabs were open — venues, wedding planners, catering services, florists, and even a “Top Ten Ways to Avoid Wedding Stress” article she’d clicked on out of desperation.
Kieran walked in from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee, setting one in front of her. He leaned against the armrest, watching her scroll furiously.
“You’ve been at this for over an hour,” he said, sipping his own coffee. “I thought we agreed we’d take things slow.”
Clara blew out a breath and leaned back against the couch. “I know, but Arielle keeps sending me links to venues, Amelia won’t stop texting me about dress ideas, and my email’s full of offers from wedding planners. I’m drowning here, Kieran.”
Kieran lowered his cup, giving her a small smirk. “Then maybe we stop overthinking and make some actual decisions instead of just collecting options.”
She glanced up at him, half amused, half frustrated. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to choose flowers, menus, and color palettes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t get a say in any of that?”
“Do you want a say?” she challenged.
He hesitated, pretending to think. “Not really. But I’d like to at least know what color tie I’m wearing.”
Clara laughed, reaching out to nudge his knee with her foot. “We’ll get there.”
Later that afternoon, they met Arielle and Amelia at a quiet café to start discussing actual plans. Arielle was already there when they arrived, sipping tea and looking far too calm compared to Clara’s current state of panic. Amelia, meanwhile, had a giant binder full of printouts and notes spread across the table.
“You’re late,” Amelia said without looking up, flipping through pages like an overzealous event planner.
“We’re not even hiring a planner yet,” Kieran pointed out, sliding into the booth beside Clara.
“Exactly,” Amelia said. “That’s why I’m filling in for free until you do.”
Clara groaned softly. “Amelia, we haven’t even settled on a date yet.”
“That’s step one,” Arielle said calmly, setting her cup down. “Before you pick anything else, you two need to decide when you want the wedding.”
Kieran leaned back, crossing his arms. “What are we thinking? A year from now?”
Clara nodded slowly. “That sounds reasonable. Gives us enough time to plan without rushing.”
Amelia shook her head instantly. “Too far away. I vote six months.”
“Absolutely not,” Kieran said flatly.
“Why not?” Amelia challenged. “You’re both madly in love, aren’t you? Strike while the iron’s hot!”
Kieran shot her a dry look. “It’s a wedding, not a flash sale.”
Clara hid a smile behind her hand as Arielle quietly laughed into her tea.
By the end of the discussion, Clara felt lighter. The chaos of tabs and emails didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. There was a plan — or at least the start of one.
That evening, back at the apartment, Clara sat curled up on the couch while Kieran sorted through a list of possible venues Arielle had sent them.
“This one’s by the lake,” he said, holding his tablet toward her. “Private, scenic, quiet.”
She leaned over to look, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I like it. It kind of fits us.”
“Fits us how?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s not flashy, but it’s beautiful. Simple. Comfortable. That’s… us.”
Kieran smiled faintly at that. “Then let’s schedule a visit.”
Clara blinked, surprised. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he said simply, setting the tablet aside. “No endless scrolling tonight. We pick one, we look at it, and if we like it, we book it. Done.”
She exhaled, leaning against him. “You make it sound so easy.”
He kissed the top of her head. “That’s because it is. Complicated things only get complicated when you let everyone else make decisions for you.”
The next morning, Kieran called the venue and managed to schedule a private viewing for the weekend. Clara’s anxiety immediately eased, knowing they were taking a solid first step.
But, of course, Amelia found out.
She stormed into their apartment two hours later with her binder under her arm. “You’re visiting a venue without me?”
Clara froze mid-sip of her coffee. “How do you even know that?”
“I have sources,” Amelia said vaguely, dropping onto the couch. “And by sources, I mean Arielle.”
Kieran groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that deep, Amelia.”
“Not that deep?” she gasped. “This is the venue. The backdrop of your forever. The place you’ll be saying your vows, Kieran!”
Clara covered her face to hide her laughter as Kieran glared at his sister. “You’re not coming,” he said firmly.
“Oh, I’m coming,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me.”
By Saturday morning, the three of them were driving out to the venue — yes, Amelia won that battle, somehow — and Clara tried her best to focus on the scenery passing by.
When they finally arrived, Clara’s breath caught. The villa was perched on a gentle slope, overlooking a serene lake. Stone pathways wound through lush gardens, and the main hall had large glass walls that opened out to a private terrace.
“This,” Amelia whispered, wide-eyed, “is perfect.”
Kieran shot Clara a questioning look, waiting for her reaction.
She stepped forward slowly, taking in the peaceful surroundings. “It’s… beautiful,” she said softly.
Kieran’s expression relaxed instantly. “Then this is it.”
“No second-guessing?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“None,” he said without hesitation.
After touring the grounds and discussing logistics with the coordinator, they made a tentative booking for next spring. As they walked back to the car, Clara felt an unexpected wave of excitement wash over her.
“This is really happening,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Kieran slid his hand into hers, squeezing gently. “It is.”
Amelia, trailing behind them, shouted, “I call dibs on speech number one!”
Kieran groaned. “Absolutely not.”
Later that evening, they called Luca and Diane over for dinner to share the news. When Clara told them they’d officially picked a venue, Diane practically squealed while Luca raised his glass in approval.
“To making it official,” Luca said with a grin. “I can’t wait to watch Kieran try to dance at his own wedding.”
Kieran shot him a dry look. “You won’t be invited if you keep talking.”
Clara laughed, leaning into Kieran’s shoulder. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous we found the perfect venue before he and Diane did.”
Diane flushed slightly but smiled. “Maybe we’ll get there someday.”
That night, after everyone had left and the apartment had gone quiet, Clara sat on the bed while Kieran finished up an email at his desk.
“We’re really doing this,” she said softly, almost as if testing the words.
He turned his chair toward her, leaning back. “Second thoughts already?”
“Not even close,” she said, smiling faintly. “I just… I keep thinking about how much we’ve been through to get here.”
Kieran crossed the room and sat beside her, resting his hand over hers. “I know,” he said simply. “But we’re here now. That’s what matters.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full.
The next few weeks passed in a blur of small milestones. They booked a photographer after a long discussion over portfolios. They met with a caterer and sampled menus, disagreeing over desserts until Amelia broke the tie. Invitations were drafted, though Kieran argued passionately against gold foil lettering (“Why are we spending extra for shiny names?”).
Through it all, though, they stayed grounded, tackling one decision at a time and leaning on each other when the stress built up.
And despite the chaos of planning, every night still ended the same: just the two of them, together, quiet and content.
It wasn’t about the flowers or the music or even the dress.
It was about the fact that they’d chosen each other — no matter what had happened before, no matter what lay ahead.
For Kieran and Clara, that was enough.