It's the day that I will be wedded off to the man who took away my happiness, my soul and my love.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror; my blue eyes no longer reflecting happiness and love they once used to, turning grey from longing for someone who I will never see again, or so I believe. The colour of my cheeks has long since been pale, the crimson hue never returning, just like him.

Angela is doing my hair, styling them across my forehead in a soft fringe. I am clad in a white suit, a rose pinned to its pocket. I don't fancy anything, not the decor or the preparation, oddly enough, I am not experiencing any cold feet or jittery butterflies in my stomach, but then again, why would I?

This is not my dream wedding, I won't be marrying the man I want to spend my forever with, and I am not allowed to rebel, for it is not our behaviour to do so and father will be not proud if I did.

"I will be back with your bouquet," Angela smiles and walks away after I nod.

I take a deep breath and reality hits me hard, I will never see him again, I haven't even heard from him in a year. Even though I know he can't return, still, every single day I pray for his safety.

The sound of window panels hitting the wall snap me out of my train of thoughts. My head whips toward the wide open window as cold wind fills the room.

There is an eerie presence to the way the wind howls, the day is bright outside but my room has turned gloomy.

I walk toward the window and shut it, latching it just to assure my frantic heart that everything is safe.

"Louis," I hear a whisper calling my name, and it's not just any whisper, it's him.

My eyes are wild, and face must depict utter surprise as I search for his presence, for his figure or shadow, anything.

"Oh, my love," the same voice calls out, "You look dazzling in that suit, wish it was for me and not that piece of dirt."

I gasp in surprise when those warm and gentle fingers touch my back, but there is no one when I turn, maybe it's my imagination, but how can I not recognize that touch. I can never confuse with his touch, he is here.

"Why do you look so lifeless, agápi mou?" I don't understand the term he uses but it's not the time to delve on that. His voice gives away his sadness.

"Where are you?" I ask and realise how desperate my voice is, even when I whisper.

I receive no response but I feel him again, a finger tracing my skin, starting from my temple and travelling down to my clavicle. My eyes flutter shut under his mere touch. Oh, how much I have craved him.

"Right here, Louis, I told you I'll come back to take you," his breath hits my ear and I gasp when he plants a tender kiss under it.

"It's my wedding today," I gulp and I can feel the anger radiating off of his unseen figure.

"Zayn," he hisses, "Tha ton skotóso."

Before I can ask what he means or anything else, the room turns dark, that eerie feeling grips my heart again, clutching and squeezing it.

I look beside me when the light passing through the glass diminishes, resulting in my eyes widening and mouth parting in shock. There he stands in all his glory, a set jaw, muscled torso and arms, ink marking his skin, eyes black and menacing, his once beautiful, white wings have turned the darkest shade of black - It's him but it's not the man I fell in love with, it's not the angel whose voice would capture and heal any soul. His halo is no more there, and I can see pointed fangs as he smirks in a way which can be anything but innocent. The green of his eyes that I used to get lost into are no more there.

A lone tear rolls down my eye as I whisper in shock, "Harry!"