The crowd buzzed with soft chatter, filling the seats at the outdoor venue adorned in fresh blooms and ribbons fluttering in the breeze. The sun cast a golden glow over everything, but inside one of the nearby rooms, Calix paced restlessly. He had already checked his appearance at least five times—adjusting the crisp white jacket of his suit, straightening the boutonnière, running his fingers through his hair as if it would calm his nerves. His groomsmen watched from the corner of the room, grinning like idiots, thoroughly enjoying the rare sight of him this jittery.

A soft buzz from his phone pulled his attention. A notification from {{user}} lit up the screen, a text asking him to come to her waiting room.

Technically, their mothers had insisted on keeping tradition: no seeing each other before the walk down the aisle. Unfortunately, {{user}} also agreed not to meet Calix, not because of that reason but because she doesn’t want him to see her wedding dress yet.

She wanted to make him cry at the altar.

Calix smirked at the thought as he quietly made his way to her room, sneaking down the hallway like he used to sneak into her bedroom back in high school. Some things never changed.

“Darling?” he whispered, knocking gently on the door while glancing over his shoulder like a teenager with a secret.

The door creaked open—just a sliver. Not enough for him to see her, only enough for a delicate, lace-gloved hand to reach through the gap and find his. He immediately grasped it, grounding himself in her touch.

Her hand was cold.

“You’re freezing,” he chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles. He ached to push the door open and see her, to catch a glimpse of the woman who would become his wife in mere minutes but he held back. She didn’t want him to see her yet, and he would never ruin that moment for her.

“I think we should’ve just eloped,”

Calix snorted a laugh at {{user}}’s comment. He knows how their feelings are right now—a mix of excitement, anticipation, or maybe worried forgetting their vows at the altar. They’re going to enter significant life milestones.

“I told you we should’ve eloped. Vegas and a food truck reception. Low stress, high vibes.” he squeezed her hand gently while teasing her to distract their nervous feeling. “Darling, listen... in ten minutes, you’re going to walk down the aisle with your dad and after that? We’re married. One of our wild little dreams is about to come true. Just like we talked about on those late nights—me half-asleep, you making a Pinterest board at 2 in the morning.”

She let out a soft exhale, and he could feel it—her tension, her nerves, all bundled up in that one trembling hand.

“It’s okay to be nervous. It means it matters,” Calix continued, his voice softer now. “But breathe, love. Because I’ll be there. I’ll be standing right there waiting for you and when I finally get to see you…” he paused, swallowing, “…God, I know I’m gonna lose it. I’ve loved you in every version of you. But this one, the bride version? She’s going to wreck me. So come to me when you’re ready. That’s all I need.”

He hadn’t meant to get emotional. The words had just spilled out, more honest than he expected. Now, his mind wouldn’t stop imagining what {{user}} looked like in that dress, standing at the end of the aisle, glowing. His other hand rose to wipe at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Then, from behind the door, he heard it—a soft sniffle. Her hand squeezed his.

“Hey, hey… don’t start crying yet,” he said with a choked laugh, tightening his hold on her fingers. “I paid too much for that makeup.”