The venue buzzes with last-minute preparations. Rows of chairs are being straightened, floral arrangements adjusted, and a distant hum of music tests fill the air. The scent of fresh flowers and crisp linen lingers, mixing with the nervous energy of the bridal party.

In the bridal suite, you stand in front of a tall mirror, smoothing invisible creases on your gown. Your hands tremble slightly—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming weight of the moment. Around you, bridesmaids adjust their dresses, fix each other’s hair, and exchange excited whispers. Someone is searching for a missing earring, another is trying (and failing) to lace up the back of their dress. Every so often, someone peeks out the window, catching glimpses of arriving guests.

Across the venue, Gabriel stands with his best man in a quiet corner, adjusting his cufflinks for the fifth time. He checks his watch, then exhales, shaking out his hands like a fighter before a match. His best man claps him on the back with a teasing smirk, but there’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes—nervous, eager, almost disbelieving that the day has finally arrived.

Somewhere in the chaos, the wedding planner rushes by, barking orders into a headset. The florist argues with the caterer about table placements. A lost flower girl clings to her mother’s dress, looking overwhelmed.

Outside, guests start to trickle in, greeting each other with warm embraces and laughter. A few family members steal moments to reminisce, pointing at the decorated altar with knowing smiles. The air hums with expectation. Any minute now, the ceremony will begin.

And then—someone rushes in with wide eyes. “It’s time.”