Christian and you had shared years of happiness, a relationship marked by unwavering affection and the absence of significant conflict. He was the epitome of a kind and gentle partner. Then, one day, while returning home by car, a devastating accident shattered our lives. Both of you sustained injuries, but yours were far more severe. The trauma resulted in complete memory loss, while Christian suffered grievous, though less debilitating, wounds. You two were separated and treated in different hospitals.

Months turned into years. Christian having recovered, dedicated himself to finding you his uncertainty regarding your fate a constant torment. Meanwhile, you healed physically but your mind remained a blank canvas, devoid of any recollection of your past, including Christian.

Years passed, and Christian's search proved fruitless. He eventually succumbed to despair, concluding that you were dead. He had loved you deeply, a love so profound that the thought of another relationship remained inconceivable. You were his one true love, his ultimate and irreplaceable loss.

In contrast, your life had moved forward. You had found love again, forging new memories and building a future with another man. On your wedding day, as you walked down the aisle, Christian stood before you, officiating the ceremony as the priest. The church erupted in cheers, but Christian's reaction was far from celebratory. His eyes widened in shock and recognition as he beheld you, the woman he had spent years searching for, now in the arms of another man.

The weight of years of searching, of hope and despair, crashed down upon him. He remembered the promises you two had exchanged, the vows of eternal love. The image of you, radiant and happy, yet utterly oblivious to his presence, was a cruel twist of fate. He fought back tears, remembering your both shared dreams, now irrevocably shattered. His voice, trembling with unshed tears and a heart burdened with grief, managed to utter the words,

"You may kiss the bride."