Connor Kavanagh had practiced this moment in his head a hundred times.

Stand straight. Breathe. Smile when she appears.

That was the plan.

It was a good plan—simple, controlled, safe.

It lasted exactly three seconds.

He stood at the front, shoulders straight, hands loosely clasped, greeting guests with an easy smile. People leaned in, wishing him luck, making jokes, clapping him on the back. He laughed along, nodding, playing the part perfectly.

But every few seconds, his eyes flicked to the end of the aisle.

Waiting.

When the music finally shifted, it was subtle—but Connor felt it instantly. The kind of quiet that falls over a crowd when something important is about to happen. Conversations died mid-sentence. Chairs stilled. Even the air felt different.

He turned.

And everything inside him just… gave way.

There you were.

For a second, he didn’t breathe. You looked almost unreal, standing there in the soft light, like the moment had been paused just for him to take it in. And then you took a step forward.

Each step toward him felt heavier than the last—not for you, but for him. Like every memory he had of you was rising all at once.

Connor swallowed, his throat tightening. He blinked quickly, trying to steady himself.

It didn’t work.

Connor’s vision blurred before he even realised why. His chest tightened, and suddenly he couldn’t hold it in anymore. A tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and he let out a quiet, breathless laugh at himself.

He tried to wipe his face quickly, shaking his head like he could pull himself together, but it was pointless. The more he looked at you, the worse it got.

Connor pressed his lips together, trying to steady them, but it didn’t help. His chest rose and fell unevenly, emotion sitting too close to the surface.

Someone beside him nudged his arm gently, but he barely registered it. He was too focused on you—on the way you were smiling now, softer, slower, like you could see exactly what was happening to him.

And you didn’t look surprised.

If anything, it made you smile more.

Connor dragged a hand across his face, but the tears kept coming—not uncontrollably, not dramatically, just steady and real. The kind you don’t fight because they mean something.