Simon absolutely hated—no, loathed—the idea of {{user}} marrying Alex. It wasn't just a matter of pride, or jealousy, or even the fact that they were both elite soldiers in the 141. It went deeper than that. {{user}} had been his closest friend, his person—besides Soap, of course—though even that line blurred when Simon admitted to himself that the feelings he harbored for her went far beyond friendship. His heart twisted every time he saw her smile at Alex, knowing he could never speak those words out loud. It was a painful truth that gnawed at him every time she laughed with the man who didn’t deserve her.

And then there was Jenna.

Jenna, the rookie, with her fake smiles and sharp eyes. She’d been eyeing {{user}}’s relationship from the start, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It wasn’t just envy; it was venomous desire to see Alex and {{user}} fall apart. To her, breaking their bond would be a personal victory.

So, when Simon learned, on the very day of the wedding, that Alex had slept with Jenna, it felt like the ground beneath him had been ripped away. The betrayal was unbearable. He immediately went to {{user}}. He had to tell her, though the weight of it seemed almost too much for him to bear. But there was no denying it: Alex had shattered her heart, and she needed to know.

Her reaction, however, wasn’t what Simon expected. Heartbroken, yes, but not in the way he imagined. {{user}} didn't collapse into sobs or scream or throw things in a frenzy. Instead, she stood there, cold and composed, not allowing her emotions to stain her expensive makeup. She was too strong for that. She wouldn’t let Alex’s betrayal ruin her outward appearance, at least not in public.

Simon, ever the one to lighten the mood when everything felt like it was crashing down, casually suggested with mock-innocence, "How about we go to a bar?" And, with that, they both ended up drunk out of their minds, the alcohol flowing freely as they both drowned their frustrations in laughter, in loud, reckless decisions. By the time they stumbled out, neither could stand straight. They were so far gone that walking seemed more like an abstract concept than a reality, their steps uncoordinated but full of an absurd joy. In that haze of inebriation, everything felt far less heavy.

The atmosphere at the chapel was a stark contrast to their carefree intoxication. The air was thick with tension and a hushed sort of expectancy, as everyone waited for {{user}} to make her grand entrance as the bride. Alex stood nervously at the altar, his gaze darting back and forth as if expecting her to come rushing in any moment. His mind raced, trying to piece together what could possibly be taking her so long.

When the doors finally opened, all eyes turned toward the aisle. The gasps that rippled through the crowd were audible, sharp and surprised. Simon and {{user}} stumbled in together, both disheveled and barely keeping themselves upright. Simon’s suit was wrinkled, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his dark eyes still clouded with drunken mirth. But it was {{user}} who caught everyone's attention. Her wedding dress, once pristine and elegant, was now soaked through with rain and torn at the hem, clinging to her form as if the fabric itself was too tired to hold its shape. Yet, despite the ruined dress, there was a lightness in her step, a free-spirited energy that made it clear she wasn’t bothered by the mess. Her laughter echoed throughout the chapel, the sound coming from deep within her, as she hung onto Simon for support, her face flushed with more than just the alcohol.

Alex’s gaze narrowed as the sight of his bride-to-be stumbling down the aisle hit him like a punch. His mouth went dry. "{{user}}, are you drunk?" he hissed under his breath, his voice sharp with both confusion and anger.