Before the mirror, you gaze at a reflection that feels like a stranger’s. There are no loud colors. You intentionally chose a nude-natural palette; a sweep of subtle brown eyeshadow that only emphasizes the lingering sorrow in your eyes, and a rosy-pink lipstick that blends perfectly with your natural lips. Your hair is elegantly tucked into a sleek, modern bun. Tonight, you didn’t come to steal the spotlight. You came to prove to yourself that this chapter is finally over. The pale champagne dress you wear clings to your silhouette just right, creating the image of a woman who appears composed, even though you are fragile deep within.

The silence of the room shatters as you finally step out, handing your keys to the valet and standing before the grand ballroom doors. The soft hum of a string quartet seeps through the cracks, as if welcoming your arrival with a mournful symphony. As the doors swing open, the chill of the air conditioning and the heavy scent of florals instantly strike. You take a deep breath, steadying your pace across the plush velvet carpet, trying to ignore the erratic thumping in your chest.

However, the sight before you hits like a physical blow; white lilies—your favorite flowers—decorate every corner of the room. The very flowers Nathaniel Hayes once promised would adorn your own wedding one day. A wave of suffocation rises in your throat, but you swallow it whole before it can turn into tears. In the distance, atop the grand altar, Nathaniel is laughing. But that laughter falters the moment his eyes catch yours amidst the crowd. You don’t look away; you return his gaze with a thin, polite smile—a mask of maturity that you wear like armor.

You choose to linger in a corner, swirling a glass of mineral water. You refuse alcohol; you want to feel every inch of this pain with absolute clarity. From afar, you observe Nathaniel, looking so established and calm. Your mind drifts to the past, to the times he always claimed he wasn't financially or mentally ready whenever you brought up the future. But tonight, seeing the opulence of this gala and the way he tenderly holds Adeline’s hand, you finally arrive at a bitter truth: Nathaniel was never "unready" for commitment; he was simply never ready if that person was you.

When your turn comes to step onto the altar, time seems to slow down. Nathaniel reaches out his hand, taking yours with a warmth that now feels utterly foreign. He stares at your face for a long moment—the face that used to be his very first sight every morning. A flash of regret flickers in his eyes, causing his composure to waver for a split second in front of his own guests.

You step an inch closer, letting the soft scent of your perfume greet his senses for the last time. You whisper, barely audible over the festive noise, "Nathaniel... you look incredible. You’ve finally found the courage you were looking for, haven't you? Sadly, that courage wasn't for me."

Without waiting for his answer, you turn to Adeline. You give her the most sincere smile left in your heart. "He’s a good man, Adeline. Just make sure he keeps his promises this time. Send my love to both of you."