Eric stood at the front of the hall, fingers stiff despite years of performing in front of crowds. This wasn’t a stage. This was the moment he’d waited for since he first realized he loved you. His palms were cold, his chest too tight, and he kept fixing his cuffs even though they were already perfect.

He tried to breathe, but every breath felt shaky. The closer the ceremony got, the louder one thought echoed in his head: She’s about to walk toward me… as my bride. The weight of that truth made his heart pound so hard it almost hurt.

Then the room shifted. Guests stood. The music changed. The doors opened. And he froze.

You appeared in white, framed by light, eyes searching until they met his. The world blurred. His breath stopped. Every memory with you — from childhood laughter to quiet heartbreak — surged through him at once.

His hands trembled. His throat tightened. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

When you took your first step toward him, the words slipped out, barely audible, raw and trembling:

“God… you’re really mine.”