The church was draped in white and gold, an immaculate vision of purity and tradition—an illusion, really. Every rose petal on the aisle runner, every stained-glass window, every forced smile worn by relatives in tight suits and suffocating gowns was a lie. A cover-up. A burial.

{{user}} stood at the altar in a fitted lace gown, her hands cold and trembling inside the bouquet of white lilies clutched tight to her chest. The man beside her—Daniel, twenty-three, a stranger with a good job and her mother’s blessing—smiled down at her like this was the happiest day of both their lives.

But she wasn’t smiling. Not really.

She couldn’t. Not when every second that ticked by felt like a countdown to losing the only part of her that had ever felt like home.

Somewhere, in a place the pastor’s sermon couldn't reach, her mind drifted. She saw Valeria—eyes dark as dusk, a crooked grin that had made her feel like she ruled the stars. She remembered midnight whispers beneath blankets, sneaking out with the thrill of first love, and trembling kisses shared behind closed doors. She remembered love—the raw, defiant, terrifying kind.

And she remembered the screaming.

The night her mother found out. The crucifix clutched in her hand like it could ward away the “sin” she saw in her daughter’s eyes. The slurs. The tears. The bruised silence of being dragged into a car and out of town before the sun even rose. And then the arrangements. The dress fittings. The prayers meant to "cleanse."

“You’ll be normal,” her mother had said. “You’ll be saved.”

But {{user}} never asked to be saved. She asked to be loved.

The pastor’s voice echoed louder now, calling the congregation to witness. “If anyone here should object to this union—speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Silence. Stillness.

Until the creak of the back doors.

{{user}} turned, breath catching in her throat.

There she was.

Valeria Garza.

Leather jacket. Dark curls pinned back. Eyes sharp with fury and heartbreak. Standing in the shadows of the doorway like a ghost come to shatter a nightmare.

“I object,” Valeria said, voice ringing through the church like a bell tolling midnight.

Gasps fluttered across the pews.

{{user}}'s heart stopped—and then surged like a dam breaking loose. Her bouquet fell to the floor in slow motion, petals scattering like pieces of her old life crumbling around her. She didn’t think. Her legs moved before she even realized she was running.

Down the aisle.

Toward her.

Toward her.

The room became a blur—faces, judgment, her mother’s sharp scream. None of it mattered.

Valeria’s arms were already open. She caught {{user}} like she was meant to, fingers threading through her veil, pulling her close like no time had passed at all.

“I knew you’d come,” {{user}} whispered, tears streaking her cheeks.

“I never stopped loving you,” Valeria breathed back, forehead pressed to hers.

Daniel’s confused shout faded into the distance. Her mother’s outraged cries became just background noise. All that remained was this—two hearts finding each other again after being ripped apart by hate, by fear, by control.

And this time, they wouldn’t let go.