Paris Woven With Dreams

A gentle breeze swept through Abidjan, stirring the warm air as Cocody's skyline caught the fading light, its sleek mansions shimmering with quiet elegance. In her family's grand estate, Ariane Kouassi stood before a gilded mirror, a vision of timeless beauty. Her wedding gown, a fusion of Ivorian wax print and French tulle, hugged her curves, its vibrant swirls of indigo and gold shimmering like the dreams she'd woven since childhood. Her ebony skin glowed under the chandelier's light, her almond eyes sparkling with hope.

Today, at twenty-seven, she would marry Olivier Dupont, her first love, in a ceremony to outshine the stars.

"You're a goddess, Ariane," Yasmine said, adjusting her sister's veil. The younger Kouassi, radiant in a sapphire gown, smiled, her phone already snapping photos. As Abidjan's reigning influencer, Yasmine's every post commanded millions, and today, her lens was fixed on Ariane.

"The internet's about to lose it over you."

Ariane laughed, nerves dancing in her chest. "It's Maman's magic, not mine." She glanced at Awa Kouassi, their mother, who stood by the window, regal in an emerald kaftan. Awa's Fabric and Perfume Empire had orchestrated this spectacle, from the custom-made Parisian earrings; delicate gold filigree with sapphire drops, sparkling in Ariane's ears to the imported orchids waiting­ outside.

Awa crossed the marble floor, her presence commanding. "Ariane, you're my pride. This day belongs to you." She brushed a curl from Ariane's face, her eyes warm. "Olivier doesn't know how fortunate he is."

Ariane's heart swelled. Olivier, with his easy smile and promises of a Parisian future, had been her anchor since they were teens sneaking mangoes from Cocody's markets. Now, a celebrated fashion stylist, she'd dressed Abidjan's elite musicians, actors, and models who'd all RSVPed to grace her wedding. Olivier, heir to a real estate empire, had ensured his father's billionaire friends: tycoons in oil and tech would attend, their presence elevating the event to legend. The car park outside was a showroom of luxury: sleek Rolls-Royces, gleaming Bentleys, and a lone Bugatti Chiron, each reflecting the wealth of the guests.

A cousin's voice broke her reverie. "The groom's entourage is here!" Yasmine gasped, snapping a quick video of Ariane's radiant smile. She posted it instantly, captioning it: My sister, the queen, begins her fairy tale! #AbidjanWedding. Within minutes, her phone buzzed, thousands of likes and comments flooded in, fans gushing, "She's unreal!" and "This is iconic!" Ariane peeked over Yasmine's shoulder, her cheeks warming at the love pouring in.

The courtyard buzzed with Abidjan's high society. Palms swayed above tables draped in kente cloth, and the air thrummed with zouglou beats, the city's heartbeat. Guests glittered in vibrant ankara and tailored suits, sipping champagne amid the scent of jasmine. Ariane's clients: a pop diva in a sequined gown Ariane had styled, a Nollywood star in bespoke silk, mingled with Olivier's father's friends, their Rolexes catching the light. Yasmine darted through the crowd, filming snippets: the diva laughing, a billionaire toasting, the orchid-laden altar. Each post racked up thousands of likes in moments, her fans insatiable for more.

At the altar, Olivier stood tall, his charcoal suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on Ariane as she stepped forward, her train trailing like a comet's tail. Pride radiated from him, his chest puffed as if he'd won a prize. "You're breath-taking," he murmured, taking her hand and gazing at her with a steady, admiring look.

His grip was firm, almost too tight, but Ariane chalked it up to excitement. The bouquet in her other hand, a cascade of white roses and lilies he'd paid for, felt like a symbol of his devotion.

The crowd hushed as the officiant began. Ariane's gaze drifted to the horizon. She imagined Paris: the Seine's glow, her designs on runways, Olivier by her side. The vows came swiftly, each word a thread weaving their future.

"I, Olivier, promise to cherish you," he said, his voice smooth as velvet.

But his thumb pressed into her palm, a sharp edge to his touch. Ariane blinked, brushing it off. He's nervous, like me.

"I, Ariane, promise to love you, in every dream we chase," she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

The crowd erupted, and Olivier pulled her close for a kiss, his lips warm but possessive. As they turned to face their guests, Yasmine's cheer rang loudest, though her eyes narrowed briefly at Olivier, her phone still capturing every moment.

The reception pulsed with life. A sapeur in a crimson suit spun across the dancefloor, his flair earning cheers from the pop diva and a tech mogul. Awa toasted the couple, her speech a blend of pride and wisdom. "To Ariane and Olivier, may your love bloom like Abidjan's markets, vibrant and true, and your marriage filled with laughter and a lifetime of joy." As glasses clinked, Ariane raised her glass to her mother, a genuine smile spreading across her face, her eyes shining with tears that sparkled like diamonds in the light.

As the band struck up a soukous rhythm, Yasmine posted another video: Ariane and Olivier swaying under lanterns, her gown a swirl of color. "The couple of the century! #ParisBound," she wrote. Likes surged past ten thousand in minutes, comments flooding: "She's a dream!" "Olivier's so lucky!"

On the dance floor, Ariane's heart was filled with excitement and joy, her feet moving in perfect rhythm, but Olivier's grip on her waist felt heavy and possessive, his breath warm against her skin, laced with the sharp scent of champagne.

"You're mine now, Ariane," he whispered, his words cloaked in charm. "Paris will be ours." Pride laced his voice, but the word mine landed like a stone. Her smile faltered, the weight of his gaze pinning her like a trophy on display. She glanced at Yasmine, who watched from the sidelines, her influencer's grin fading into a frown. Yasmine's eyes flicked to Olivier, then back to Ariane, as if sensing a shadow in the light.

As the song ended, Olivier's hand tightened, his fingers digging into her wrist. "Don't wander off," he said, his voice low. "Everyone's watching us." He released her with a smile, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

Ariane's heart thudded, her dreams tangling with a sudden unease. She looked across the courtyard, where Abidjan's lights glittered like promises. Paris awaited, a city of love and ambition. But as Olivier's shadow loomed, she wondered: was this the start of her fairy tale, or something else entirely?