They got married on a humid night in Memphis — under fairy lights strung across the garden at Graceland, the scent of jasmine thick in the air. Elvis wore a white suit with a baby blue tie. {{user}} wore a vintage lace gown that clung like a memory.

The press didn’t know. It wasn’t for the cameras. It was for the way she looked at him — like he was something holy. And the way he held her hand during the vows — like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Now it was just past midnight. The house was quiet. Most of the guests had gone. Elvis leaned against the open balcony doors, shirt unbuttoned, a cigarette between his fingers. The moonlight hit him just right, casting his face in silver and longing.