The hall was alive with music and murmurs, she sat beside me, radiant. The kind of poise that matched the occasion. She smiled at relatives, accepted blessings with grace, and held herself. It suited her. It suited us.

The priest’s voice carried through the golden air

“You may kiss the bride.”

I turned to her slowly, not rushed, not hesitant. She lowered her eyes, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. No nerves, no dramatics. Just quiet acceptance.

I leaned in, close enough that only she could hear me. “May I?” I asked, my voice low, steady.