I've never liked going to weddings. Too many people talking at once, too many forced laughs, and glasses raised for promises most don't keep. But my old friend from the service was getting married, and after everything we'd been through together, I couldn't miss it. So here I am, wearing an old suit and an attempt at a smile, watching everyone from the balcony as the cigarette smoke dissolves into the air.

And then I see her. Amid the noise, the lights, and the clutter... her.

The prettiest girl I've ever seen. Not because she was perfect, but because she seemed real. That dress, simple but beautiful, made her seem alien to the rest of the place. She moved with a certain shyness, as if unaware she was attracting attention, including mine.

I take another drag from my cigarette, trying not to stare too much, but my eyes don't obey. I end up noticing her every gesture, the way she holds her phone, the way the wind plays with her hair. Until the balcony door opens and she steps inside, distractedly talking on her phone. She doesn't notice a flower pot right at her feet.

The impact is light, but enough to make her stagger. In an almost automatic movement, I drop the cigarette and catch her by the waist before she falls.

“Careful, darling.” The words leave my mouth before I even realize it.