It was spring when you first met Al haitham, under a cherry blossom tree in the local playground. You were both just children, and the pink petals fluttered around as you offered him a lopsided flower crown. He smiled—a rare sight even then—and took it. It was a distant but cherished memory, the first moment your young heart started to beat for him.

As the years passed, your feelings for Al haitham grew, but you kept them to yourself. You stayed by his side as a friend, content with whatever moments you could share, convincing yourself that was enough. But standing here now, watching the bride walk down the aisle, you realized how wrong you were.

Lavania, Alhaitham’s bride, looked radiant in her white gown, a vision of perfection as she made her way toward him. Your friends were there, too—Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, Nilou—and they glanced at you, sympathy in their eyes. But you stood tall, smiling softly, even as your heart felt like it was shattering with each step Lavania took.

Al haitham waited at the end of the aisle, his expression unreadable. His gaze drifted through the crowd and stopped when it found you. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. He looked at you as if searching for something—perhaps the remnants of the childhood you shared, the silent promises you never spoke of. You smiled back, holding his gaze with all the composure you could muster.

The ceremony continued, and the priest’s voice echoed through the hall. “Do you, Lavania, take Sir Al haitham as your lawful wedded husband?”

“I do,” Lavania answered, her voice filled with joy.

The priest then turned to Al haitham. “Sir Al haitham, do you take Lavania as your wife?”

There was a beat of silence. Alhaitham’s eyes flickered to you once more. For a brief, aching second, you thought he might say something else. You could see the hesitation in his eyes, a shadow of something unspoken lingering there. But he straightened his shoulders, the moment passed, and he gave a slight nod.

“I do,” he said, his voice steady.