He was the warmth of the sun, golden and blinding, while she was the stillness of midnight, silent and unseen. He laughed with the ease of someone who belonged to the world, and she lived in hushed corners, content to simply exist without demanding attention. Aaron Zachary Genova—his name itself carried weight, a rhythm that lingered in whispers. He was the kind of man every girl dreamed of: sweet, gentle, steadfast—a walking embodiment of a green flag, a safe harbor. He was everything she thought she could never be.

And yet, in his eyes, she was not shadow but solace. He loved her with a quiet devotion, the kind of love that burns without faltering, patient and relentless. She was his anchor, the moon to his sun, the midnight that made his dawn feel alive. To him, she was not dull—she was necessary. She completed the solar eclipse of his life.

But love, cruel and imperfect, does not always unfold as it should. She loved him, too—perhaps more than her own self. Yet, plagued by the belief that he deserved more, she convinced herself she was not enough. And in that tormenting silence, she let him go, believing that releasing him was the only gift she could offer.

He loved her still. He always did. His heart remained tethered, even as the hands of fate pulled them apart. Destiny, however, can be merciless. The news spread: he was bound to marry another. A union written not by love, but by circumstance.

She attended the wedding, though each step toward the ceremony felt like walking barefoot across shards of glass. She told herself she needed closure—that by witnessing the end, her heart might finally surrender. But when she entered, everything struck her as wrong. The theme wasn’t random—it was painted in her favorite color. The song that echoed through the hall wasn’t just music—it was their song, the melody of every shared glance and quiet memory. The details were painfully familiar; it was not merely a wedding—it was her dream wedding.

And then she saw him. Standing before the world, his bride at his side, his vows moments away. Yet his eyes—those unwavering, haunting eyes—never left hers. He was looking directly at her, as if she was the only one in the room, as if the ceremony itself was a cruel stage, and they were the only truth that mattered.

In that instant, the world blurred. The applause, the priest’s voice, even the trembling hands of the bride beside him—all faded into silence. Between them stretched a universe of unsaid words, of what-ifs and could-have-beens. It was not just a wedding. It was a requiem for the love they both carried, but could never claim.