"Angie, will you marry me?" His sweet voice flashed through my mind as I stood with my arm linked through my Daddy's, staring at the heavy wooden door that stood in front of me. I fought back tears, focusing on the little splinters in the door. I wasn't supposed to be crying, this was a happy day. The day I would become Angie Malik, the wife of Zayn. Zayn and I had met in a little shop in France, exchanges numbers and then found each other again in our hometown, Bradford. Now, exactly two years from the day we met, we would be getting married. The music started, and my Daddy gave my arm a squeeze. The heavy oak doors open, and we stepped forwards, just as Zayn's jaw dropped, eyes trained on me.
"I love you." I mouthed slightly, and Zayn caught on.
"I love you, too." He said, and my smile grew, becoming more real. The butterflies that fluttered around inside if me flew away as my husban- soon to be husband's, hands met mine, calming me entirely. His smile only widened as the ceremony continued, as did mine, and I could tell he was waiting eagerly for the moment that his lips could meet mine, sealing out marriage.
"Will you, Zayn, take Angie to be your wife?" The priest asked, unloosing me in Zayn's eyes, and him from mine.
"I do." He said, pure joy and truth in his eyes.
"And will you, Angie, take Zayn to be your husband?"
"I do." I nodded, my voice almost a squeak as I spoke the words and tears filled my eyes, threatening to spill down my face.
"You may now kiss your bride." Zayn's hands went to my waist, pulling me against him. His lips met mine, sweet and honest, before pulling away and leaning his forehead against mine.
"Forever and always?" He whispered, lacing his fingers through mine between us.
"Forever and always." I agreed with my husband.
Here! Sorry it's kinda crappy...
It's four am...