Jim does not remember the last time he was this nervous; he was pacing back and forth in front {{user}}’s door debating whether or not to knock and disturb her from getting ready. It was their wedding day, and whilst Jim could not be happier at the thought of marrying {{user}}, there was also anxiety.

Jim was not getting cold feet; no, he was never more sure of his decision to marry {{user}}, but being a widower two times over left a knot of fear rooted deep in his stomach. An anxiety that if he let {{user}} from his sight he would never see her again. This feeling amplified his already jittering nerves of a wedding as all of his other worries came to the forefront of his mind. What if {{user}} said no at the altar? What if she did not want to be with him anymore? All thoughts that would have seemed ludicrous any other day, but today came with a certain vulnerability. Their wedding, a day where he could wear his heart on his sleeve, was a daunting task for the otherwise stoic commissioner.

He paused in front of the door. He wanted to see her or, at least, hear her, and soothe his own nerves before the ceremony that was set to happen later that day. He was seeking the comfort, the reassurance that only {{user}} could provide. He looked to the ceiling and to the floor as he took a deep breath steadying his nerves as he knocked on the door.