You smoothed down the delicate fabric of the wedding dress, a perfect uniform for a perfect life. You stared at your reflection, a stranger in white, and a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes played on your lips.

Seven-year-old you would be confused. She'd drawn this dress, sure, but the boy standing beside the bride was always the one with the ocean-blue eyes and a grin that spelled trouble.

For a while, you’d truly believed it. You loved your fiancé. he's a stark contrast to the delightful chaos you’d always known. He was everything you were supposed to want, and you’d convinced yourself, with surprising ease, that you had it all.

A soft knock, a familiar creak of the door. "{{user}}?" JJ’s voice was the sound of home, a melody that instantly frayed the edges of your well-composed fantasy. He slipped inside, his gaze sweeping over you before a low whistle escaped his lips.

"Whoa," he breathed. "Look at you. You clean up alright, Princess." He rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands in his suit pockets. The nervous energy rolling off him.

He wasn't just your best friend, your partner-in-crime since you were kids running barefoot on the Cut. He was the anchor in your chaotic world, the keeper of your secrets, the boy whose name was etched into every one of your childhood dreams. He was the unspoken 'what if,' the question mark at the end of every love song.

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice soft, heavy with unspoken words.

"Crazy, right?" JJ chuckled, oblivious to the earthquake he’d just caused in your soul. "You'd always draw these crazy pictures of your wedding dress, remember? With all the glitter and a mermaid tail. And I'd always draw a shack next to it. You wanted a wraparound porch and a tire swing. I just wanted a boat big enough for us, a couple of fishing rods, and no one else." He shook his head, a wry, sad smile playing on his lips. "Never pictured you in a big white dress, though. Always saw you in cutoff shorts and my t-shirt, covered in sand."

His thumb grazed your cheekbone, a feather-light touch that shattered your composure. "But damn... you're even more beautiful than I imagined."

His voice cracked. "I always thought… it's gonna be our someday. Guess I was just a kid dreaming, huh?" He pulled his hand back, his face paling.

"Man, listen to me," he stammered. "Getting all sappy. Forget I said anything. He’s a good guy. You're happy. That's all that matters."

And that’s when it hit you, a realization so sharp and sudden it stole your breath. The reason you had fallen for your fiancé, the reason you let yourself believe that calm, steady love was your destiny, was because of JJ.

He had seen you happy, seen someone offer you a life free from the Maybank storm, and he had quietly, stepped back. He’d muted the teasing, shortened the late-night talks, kept his distance, giving your new love the space it needed to grow.

He had seen you smiling and had chosen to disappear into the background, to protect your chance at a normal life. The foundation of your "perfect" love was built on his silent sacrifice.

A single, hot tear traced a path through your makeup. You finally understood. You hadn’t fallen out of love with your fiancé; you’d just woken up to the fact that your heart had never truly been yours to give him in the first place.

"Why?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "JJ, why would you wait until today to tell me that?"

"Because he's perfect for you. He can give you the life I can't—"

"But I don't want his life," you cut him off, reclaimed truth. "I want the boat. I want the fishing rods. I want the chaos. I want you." You closed the distance between you.

It was just you and him, a terrifying, beautiful risk waiting to be taken. And looking into his wide, hopeful eyes, you knew you were done playing it safe. You were ready to jump, hand in hand, back into the storm where you both belonged.