Outside the house, a group of people stood anxiously. Leading the pack was Dorian, his face a mask of frustration, alongside a makeup artist who looked equally distressed.
As soon as the makeup artist saw her, he hurried over, asking, "Bridesmaid, is the bride still not out yet?"
"We've only got half an hour before the reception starts. There's no time for a full makeover or hairstyle. She could maybe change into her dress and get a quick touch-up... but she can't possibly walk down the aisle without any makeup!"
The makeup artist was practically tearing his hair out, while Dorian radiated anger like a thundercloud about to burst.
He brushed past Amara, striding up to Elysia's door and knocking loudly. "Elysia, get out here!" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "The wedding's in half an hour! What on earth are you doing?"
There wasn't a peep from inside, leaving everyone to wonder if she was even in there.
A timid voice from the crowd piped up, "Is Elysia really in there? Maybe she's getting cold feet..."
Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain after that, and Dorian turned sharply to Amara, his eyes tinged with desperation.
"Call her, yell for her, do whatever you have to—just get her out here," he pleaded. Despite having all of Elysia's family around, he knew Amara was the only one who might sway her.
Amara’s voice was cool and unyielding. "Why should I? I'm not going to shout."
Her demeanor had shifted from earlier, where she had at least been polite; now she was as cold as a winter morning.
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