Paris Woven With Dreams

nd 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 vi

rry Olivier Dupont, her first love,

radiant in a sapphire gown, smiled, her phone already snapping photos. As Abidjan's reigning

s about to los

by the window, regal in an emerald kaftan. Awa's Fabric and Perfume Empire had orchestrated this spectacle, from the custom-made

re my pride. This day belongs to you." She brushed a curl from Arian

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

instantly, captioning it: My sister, the queen, begins her fairy tale! #AbidjanWedding. Within minutes, her phone buzzed, thousands of likes and comm

its, 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 catchi

she stepped forward, her train trailing like a comet's tail. Pride radiated from him, his chest puffed as if he'd

excitement. The bouquet in her other hand, a cascade of white r

on. She imagined Paris: the Seine's glow, her designs on runways, Olivier b

herish you," he said, his

sharp edge to his touch. Ariane blinked

dream we chase," she replied, her voice

ssessive. As they turned to face their guests, Yasmine's cheer rang loudest, tho

peech 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

under lanterns, her gown a swirl of color. "The couple of the century! #ParisBound," she wrote. L

moving in perfect rhythm, but Olivier's grip on her waist felt heavy and posse

ke 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 sid

r wrist. "Don't wander off," he said, his voice low. "Everyone's watchin

here Abidjan's lights glittered like promises. Paris awaited, a city of love and ambition. But as Ol