You hear the knock before the door swings open and then closed, quick and quiet like only Conrad could do. It’s been years, but you’d know those footsteps anywhere, the careful hesitation that always came before he stepped into your space.

You don’t turn around at first. You’re standing in front of the mirror, veil draped over your shoulders, heart beating so hard it makes your breath catch. You say it soft, almost like a prayer. “Connie… you can’t be here.”

His name tastes like every summer night and every secret you thought you’d buried. You force yourself to meet his eyes in the reflection, and for a moment you almost forget why you shouldn’t look. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little sadder—but it’s him. It’s always been him.

“Please,” he says, voice cracking like the tide against Cousins Beach rocks. “Don’t marry him.”

Your chest tightens until it feels like it might split open. “Conrad,” you whisper. “Don’t do this. Not today.”

“I tried,” he says. And you can tell he means it. You hear it in the way his voice shakes, see it in the way his hands curl into fists at his sides. “I tried to let you go. I thought if you were happy with him, it’d be enough for me. But it isn’t. It’s never been enough. I love you. I never stopped.”

You close your eyes, fighting the ache that rises up like a wave. The wedding music drifts through the walls, faint and distant, but the world feels impossibly small now—just you and Conrad and the words you’re both too scared to say out loud.

“Connie, please,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time. Like maybe you don’t want him to stop.

He takes a step closer, and you can feel the heat of him behind you. “Tell me you don’t love me,” he whispers. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Your breath catches. Your heart betrays you, beating his name over and over in the silence between you.

Outside, they’re waiting. Jeremiah is waiting. But in here, it’s just you and Conrad—and the truth you’ve been running from for years.