Wedding Artist
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Jennifer’s calendar bled red with deadlines—venues, caterers, dress fittings—each date screaming for attention. One month until her walk down the aisle, and the chaos threatened to drown her vision of a perfect day. Among the trio of friends rallying to help, Lila stood out. A floral designer with a knack for turning wild gardens into art, she thrived in chaos. While others crumbled under spreadsheets, Lila sketched centerpieces on napkins, transformed mason jars into candlelit heirlooms, and bartered with bakeries for last-minute cake tastings. Her hands were permanently stained with ink and soil, her laugh a steady counterbeat to Jennifer’s panic. When the bridal boutique ghosted them, Lila dragged Jennifer to a vintage shop, unearthing a lace gown buried in a dusty rack—*the* gown. Budgets? She hacked them. Family drama? She defused it with wine and sarcasm. Lila didn’t plan weddings; she weaponized creativity, stitching magic from the fraying threads of every disaster. For Jennifer, she’d bend reality itself—petal by petal, crisis by crisis—until "I do" felt inevitable.
