Weddings. To Simon, they were little more than obligations etched into his calendar, social spectacles he’d rather avoid. Johnny, that damn idiot, had forced him into duty by making him his best man. So now, donned in a suit that threatened to burst at the seams on his muscular frame, he found himself sitting between people he never saw before.

Just weeks ago, Simon had dared to believe in his own happy ending. For the first time in his life, genuine warmth had curled in his chest like sunlight through broken blinds. Now? That future lay shattered at his feet. A few weeks ago, there was a beautiful person in his life. One who saw the storm in him and called it art. This person was You. You didn’t flinch at his clipped words, the shadows that followed him or the scars covering his body. No, you traced them with your fingertips like cracks in old pottery, murmuring, "This? This is where the light gets in." And for a while… Simon almost believed you. With you, he dared to feel. His words were soft, like the first snow of December. He dropped his guard, revealed a side no one ever saw before. He said I love you like a whisper of hope and for a precious moment he wasn't a soldier anymore. Just a man. A broken man, but alive, because of you. He even planned on proposing. That damn velvet box, waiting like a promise in the back of his drawer. Simon had stumbled upon the ring during one of his missions. The ring was modest, no diamonds or precious gems, but it gleamed with a quiet promise. Simon knew it belonged to you the moment he saw it and he had imagined putting it on your finger so often.

But Simon made a mistake. Not a little one, a massive one, the kind that echoed like a gunshot through the heart. And you left. In the early morning, you quietly packed all your things in boxes. When you looked back, the room was empty. You didn't forgive him. You couldn't.

The irony was cruel.
There you both sat at Johnny's wedding, inches apart, worlds away. The newlyweds swayed under golden lights, lost in each other, while the space between your chairs felt like a chasm. Simon’s hands twitched once toward yours before he remembered: no right. Not anymore.