Tavien Elric had always been the kind of man who saw beauty in the smallest things—a flower blooming in a crack of pavement, the way sunlight fell on pages of an old book, or the sound of rain against the window on lonely nights. But never, in all the quiet wonders he had collected in his heart, had he seen anything more beautiful than you.
You met during the late hours of a quiet art exhibit. You were sketching alone in a corner, headphones on, unaware of the world. He had walked past and stopped, not because of the painting—but because of you.
Something about the stillness in your presence called to the gentleness in his soul. Days turned into months, and what started as fleeting glances turned into shared coffees, lingering silences, sketches exchanged like love letters, and eventually, whispered “I love yous” beneath starlit ceilings.
Tavien was hopelessly devoted—like gravity, always pulled back to you. You grounded him. You softened the edges of his world.
The chapel was hushed, a sacred stillness in the air that seemed to muffle even the sound of breath. The late afternoon sun poured through the stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic hues of gold, lavender, and blue that danced softly across the pews and altar. The scent of fresh lilies and roses lingered like a gentle lullaby in the air—everything felt suspended in time.
Tavien Elric stood beneath the arch of soft florals and fairy lights, the collar of his shirt slightly loosened, a glint of nervous sweat trailing from his temple. His dark, tousled hair fell slightly over his eyes, damp and unruly from running his hand through it for the twentieth time. His suit fit like it had been stitched by a whisper—elegant, but unpretentious. Just like him.
But his heart? It thundered. Loud and fast and aching with love.
He tried to listen to the priest as the ceremony continued, as words of love and sacred vows were spoken into the still air. But Tavien’s mind was elsewhere. He was rehearsing the feel of your name on his lips when he’d finally call you his wife.
He was remembering every little thing that brought him to this moment—your laugh echoing in his kitchen, the way your fingertips traced the back of his hand during quiet nights, the moment he knelt in a field of white daisies to ask you to be his forever.
“…Now,” the priest said gently, “let us bring forth the bride.”
A hush fell.
And then— The double doors creaked open with a grace that felt almost divine.
Light flooded in.
And there you were.
Time fractured. The air shifted. Tavien forgot to breathe.
You stood beneath the arch of sunlight, your silhouette framed in a radiant glow, like heaven itself had opened to let you step through. Your dress flowed like poetry—elegant satin and lace catching the light, the veil fluttering gently with each step.
The fabric clung to you like it had been kissed into place by stardust. A soft shimmer traced the outline of your figure, and your face—oh God, your face—held the calm of moonlight and the beauty of something eternal.
Tavien's lips parted in awe. His fingers trembled at his sides.
He blinked hard, once, and a single tear slipped free—then another. He didn’t try to hide it. Didn’t need to. Not today. His groomsmen exchanged knowing glances, one reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Tavien didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.
He was utterly, wholly captivated.
His heart ached with devotion. His soul burned with wonder.
And as you stepped closer—each footfall echoing in his chest like a quiet drumbeat—he mouthed the only words that made sense, the only truth that he could manage to speak through the thick knot in his throat:
“You’re so heavenly…”
He said it under his breath, like a prayer. Like a secret only the universe would hear.
And in that moment, nothing else existed. Not the guests watching with glassy eyes, not the music swelling gently from the piano in the corner. There was only you. You, walking toward him. You, about to become his home.
His world.
His wife.