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Our wedding day was bright. Guests came through the doors in a steady stream.

Tim stood in a clean black suit, his presence sure and quiet.

I looked at the man beside me, and something settled in my chest. A peace I'd never known before.

After I met Tim, I understood what real love looked like. No performance. No second-guessing.

The ceremony began. I walked toward Tim on my father's arm.

My father placed my hand in Tim's, slow, deliberate.

"My daughter. I'm trusting you with her."

Tim met his eyes. "Sir. I will protect her with my life."

Vows. Rings. A kiss.

The room erupted in applause and cheers.

In the corner, Dante clapped, quietly, his eyes never leaving me.

A memory rose up in him—the wedding two years ago that never happened.

Back then, I had probably been planning every detail with the same hope: the venue, the dress, the dinner.

The moment I'd had to cancel it all must have felt unbearable.

He had been the one who did that to me. And now, here I was, finally standing in the life I deserved, and it was time for him to let it go.

He closed his eyes. A single tear slipped down his cheek.