The garden shimmered under the late afternoon sun, golden light bouncing off the white roses lining the aisle. Madonna looked radiant, her lace gown flowing as she approached Johnny, who waited nervously, Leonardo standing stoically as his groomsman. Brad fumbled with his notes, muttering to himself, clearly forgetting what he was supposed to say next. I held the bouquet tight, my knuckles whitening, feeling the sharp sting of jealousy that my two best friends were marrying each other while I stood here, single and watching. Stevie stood beside me, her fingers brushing mine for comfort, though her green eyes mirrored the same longing.

Stevie leaned closer. “I wish it were us up there,” she whispered softly. I let out a quiet laugh, forcing a smile as I adjusted my grip on the flowers.

Madonna’s voice carried as she spoke her vows, and Johnny’s reply was smooth and heartfelt, the kind of love that made everyone else in the garden sigh. I watched Stevie glance at Leo, her lips pressing together, and I realized we both felt the same pang of envy. Still, I lifted my bouquet, letting the flowers absorb some of the heat in my chest, silently cheering for our best friends even as our hearts ached.