One year later.
The sun was warm on Ken's face as he walked through the city streets, a small wrapped box in one hand and a bouquet of white roses in the other. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his hair neatly styled, his silver wedding band catching the light.
One year, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. One year since I married the Lord of the Dead. One year since I became immortal. One year since everything changed.
He glanced at his watch. He still had time. The wedding wasn't until later that afternoon.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Amy: Where are you? You're supposed to be here already. I'm panicking.
Ken smiled and typed back: I'm on my way. Had to make a stop first.
Amy: What kind of stop?
Ken: Personal. I'll be there soon. Try not to hyperventilate.
Amy: Too late. I'm already hyperventilating.
Ken: You'll be fine. You look beautiful. I know you do.
Amy: You haven't even seen me yet.
Ken: I don't need to. You always look beautiful.
