The sun dipped low over the Outer Banks, painting the sky in cotton-candy streaks of pink and orange. Waves lapped gently on the shore just beyond the dunes, and fairy lights strung between driftwood arches flickered to life as twilight settled in.

Rafe stood at the altar barefoot in the sand, his navy linen shirt rolled at the sleeves, hands slightly trembling—not from nerves, but from disbelief. That this was real. That she was real.

Then the song started.

"Can I go where you go?"

She stepped down the aisle, barefoot too, her white dress flowing like the sea breeze itself. Everyone else faded. He only saw her. She smiled, and that was it—he was gone. All the chaos, the pain, the mistakes he swore he could never outrun... she had quieted them all.

Rafe whispered when she reached him, “You look like every dream I never let myself have.”

She laughed softly, touching his face. “And you look like home.”

The ceremony was small. Just a few close friends. No gold, no fancy speeches—only raw promises under the open sky. When they said I do, it felt more like I always have.

Then came their first dance. The speakers crackled as "Lover" played again, this time slower, louder, sinking into their hearts.

"I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all."

Rafe held her close, her forehead resting against his. He swayed with her like the tide pulling them somewhere only they understood.

“I never thought I’d deserve this,” he murmured.

“You do. You always did. You just needed someone to remind you.”