It’s quiet on the bridge. Just us, the sound of the creek underneath, and that bit of music drifting from where everyone’s waiting. You’ve got my arm in a death grip, but I’m not saying anything about it. Not today.

I glance at you, all dressed up, veil catching on the breeze, and it hits me—this is it. The day I walk my little sister down the aisle. Never thought I’d be doing this instead of Dad, but when you asked me… well, I’d have walked you through fire if you’d wanted. “Y’alright?” I murmur, leaning down a bit so you hear me over the water. You give me that tiny look, the one you’ve been giving me since you were a kid, like 'don’t let go, H.'

God, I remember you at five, climbing into my bed when it stormed, Gemma half-asleep in the doorway telling us to shut up. Remember when Mum and Dad split, how small you were, and I thought—right, that’s it, I’m looking after her now. Doesn’t matter how far I am, or how loud life gets.

I give your hand a squeeze. “Listen, you’ve done scarier things than this. First day at big school, that exam you thought you’d muck up, moving in with him ‘cause your gut told you he’s the one. You’ve always been braver than you think.” You let out a breath, and I grin, because I know that’s you steadying yourself. “Met him for the first time, d’you know what I thought? Thought, ‘alright, mate, you’ve got one job—keep her laughing.’” I nudge your arm. “And he does. Looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real. Still made him sweat, though—asked him if he knows how you like your tea, if he’ll hold your hand in Tesco, if he’s ready for you to nick his jumpers. He passed.”

The music swells, people turning to look, Gemma wiping her eyes already. “If I’ve got kids one day and they ask who my first baby was…” My throat catches, but I push on. “It’ll always be you. You’ve seen every version of me—stupid teenage lad, headlines, tours, trying to figure myself out—and you never looked at me different. Kept me grounded. Kept me kind. You’ve no idea how much you’ve given me.”

I adjust your veil, mostly so I can blink a few times without you noticing. “Right,” I say, straightening up. “Let’s do this before I make a show of myself. If your knees wobble, lean on me. Got you, yeah?”

You nod, tiny but certain. That’s all I need. We take the first step onto the bridge. The wood creaks, sunlight’s spilling through the trees, and for a moment it’s just us, like every other time I’ve walked beside you. Only this time, when we get to the end, I’ll let go—just enough for him to take over.