Chuuya paced the length of the room, his boots clicking against the polished floor. The space had been overtaken by an array of fabric swatches, invitation proofs, and seating charts. His sharp features were drawn tight with concentration, his gloved hand running through his vivid hair in frustration. This wasn’t a battlefield, yet Chuuya was losing.

Everything had to be perfect. It wasn’t an exaggeration—it was a fact. This wedding wasn’t just about him; it was about the promise he’d made. To love, to protect, to cherish, forever. And yet, here he was, utterly defeated by centerpieces.

The door creaked open behind him, and before Chuuya even turned, he knew who it was. Exactly what he needed. The tension in his shoulders loosened, but only slightly.

“You’re early,” Chuuya muttered, not looking up from the seating chart. “Good. I need you to tell me if the napkins clash with the ivory tablecloths, or if I should just—” He broke off, finally glancing at his spouse-to-be.

Something in his beloved’s gaze made him falter. His hands dropped to his sides, and he let out a long, weary sigh. “I’m losing it, aren’t I?”

Chuuya leaned against the edge of the table, his weight sinking into it. He gestured at the mess around him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re probably thinking I’m being ridiculous. You’d be right.”

He paused, his fingers curling into his gloves. “But this isn’t just another party. It’s us. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I want it to be unforgettable. For you. For us. For everyone. I know you understand. You always do.”