Murmurs from the guests all around you was like static noise, the creaking of the pews, a musician tuning his violin. It all merged with the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, and the only thing you could think was that you should’ve never come here.

When you received the envelope, you almost tore it apart and threw it in the trash on the spot. You thought it was some kind of sick joke - you hadn’t seen him in years, anyway - because you couldn’t find any reason why Simon Riley would want you at his wedding.

You didn’t even end things on bad terms, but since the breakup, the only way you had received news about him was indirectly, either from mutual friends or a fleeting glance at a post while scrolling through social media. You hadn’t had a conversation with him since that night, so why you had been invited still remained a mystery.

You had thought about reaching out, too, but every time you’d go to type out that text, it sounded dumb, even though you had every right to ask; you chickened out. So now you were awkwardly looking down at your shoes, trying to avoid the confused glances from both your old friends and the other guests who had no idea who you were.

You didn’t even know the bride, you only saw her name on the invite, and for your own sake, you hadn’t even dared to look up her accounts. You wondered if she even knew that Simon - if it had even been really him - had sent his ex an invitation to the wedding.

You looked around at the venue, and apart from some changes here and there, it looked exactly like how you and Simon had imagined it all those years ago, back when you were sure he was going to be your “I do”. It was very hard to process the fact that he had easily been able to give his love to someone else, and it made you sick to your stomach, realizing that you weren’t enough for him to bring you to the altar.

A vibration coming from your phone snapped you out of your rumination, and you checked the notification:

Are you here?

Why the hell was Simon texting you?

Then, you saw everyone getting up, but you sat still in the corner, letting the other guests shield you from the bride starting to walk in, cued by the sound of violins.

Yes.

You replied

I fucked up, {{user}}. I fucked up big time. I can’t marry her. Please, say you’ll run away with me. My car is parked behind the church, no one knows I’m here.