The wedding hall was alive with joylaughter, clinking glasses, and the warm hum of celebration filled the air. It was a perfect day, the kind youd dream of your whole life. I held my brides hand, sitting beside her as we watched our guests dance under the soft glow of chandeliers.
Then, amidst the revelry, she leaned close and whispered, her voice trembling:
*”Theres something moving under my dress.”*
For a moment, I thought she was jokingjust another quip to ease the nerves. I chuckled, squeezing her fingers. *”Your feet, love?”*
But her expression froze me. Her grip tightened, her eyes wide with fear.
*”Im serious. Its there. I can feel it.”*
My smile faltered. I tried to reason with herfatigue, nerves, imagination. But she shook her head, insistent. *”Its moving. Its real.”*
A chill ran through me. Without another word, I carefully lifted the heavy lace and silk of her gownand what we saw stole our breath.
There, coiled beneath the layers, was a small adder. It slithered lazily, as if lost in the folds. My bride gasped, lurching back, but I steadied her before she could stumble. The music halted as guests turned, confusion and alarm rippling through the room.
The snake, sensing the commotion, darted out from the fabric and zigzagged across the floor toward the exit. Silence followed its path until it vanished through the doors.
Thankfully, one of the guestsa wildlife enthusiastreassured everyone. *”Harmless,”* he said. *”Just a little grass snake. Mustve hitched a ride in the flowers.”*
But the damage was done. My bride trembled for hours, refusing to continue in her gown. Eventually, she changed into trousers, her hands still unsteady.
To this day, she checks every corner, every hem, with a wary eye. And whenever she sees a long skirt, she hesitatesjust for a secondbefore stepping forward.
