He hated that he came but hated even more that he couldn't stay away. He'd read that invitation so many times it was practically burned into his memory. The flowy script spelling out your name alongside someone else's felt like a punch to the gut every time.

Now here he was, standing on the sidelines of your picture-perfect wedding, his hands clenched into fists as his arms wrapped around his chest. The scenery was beautiful... in the middle of the woods, string lights hung like constellations above, casting a golden glow over the area. The air buzzed with excitement, everyone brimming with cheer and congratulations. But Simon didn't feel any of it.

His eyes never left you.

You stood at the altar at 11:50 PM, your laugh ringing out as you looked up at the man who wasn't him. That laugh, it used to be his. Your smile, your joy; it used to all belong to him; once upon a time before the military. Before he convinced himself you were better off without him all those years ago. And now, someone else had filled the space he'd left behind.

Simon's jaw tightened as he sipped from a flask he secretly tucked away, letting the burn chase the knot deep in his chest. He wanted to hate the man standing beside you, who got to hold you, to say the words he couldn't bring himself to say. It was anger, filled with bitter regret.

At midnight, the officiant declared you married, the crowd erupting in cheers, but Simon's world went silent. His heart twisting as he watched you kiss your new husband, cementing the reality he'd been trying to avoid.

The reception began shortly after, music and laughter filling the clearing. He was about to slip away, act like he never came, but when he heard your soft voice call his name, everything stopped.

"Simon—"

He turned around. You were captivating. Your wedding dress glowing under the soft light, your pretty eyes and smile lighting up his entire world in that moment. But then he goes and fucks it up, again. "I should go," he muttered, taking a step back.