The wedding venue was beautiful, an alter in the middle of a vineyard, exotic flowers of every differentiation of pink and peach colours. It was peaceful and perfectly described your relationship, pure bliss.

This gathering was not only a reunion but a place to celebrate your sprouting love. You and your wife had finally sealed the deal, you loved her, spoiled her with every ounce of your dignity, and she gave you her everlasting love. You'd completely forgotten about your past life. It was just a blur. Not for a second were you thinking about that, going to clubs every night using money you scavenged for, a shitty job, and a dream. That didn't matter now. You were making money by the minute now and lived in a luxury condo. It was the life.

Everything was going well, your beauty walking down the aisle, arm in arm with her father, tears clouding his eyes as he led his princess to you. You stood before her, hand in hand as the priest began the ceremony. Once the vows had been read out, the priest asked for any objections. Like he'll that was necessary, nobody could object, attempting to break your love is futile. But then...

"I do. I object," a man called out, his voice gravelly and husky. A bunch of armed guards patrolled, their eyes covered in shades. The man approached, his lips curled into a pompous smirk, his look of power and amusement terrified you. You remembered him. He was a hookup, maybe even more than that. You couldn't stop going back to each other. You had a proper romance, you understood each other on levels you didn't with your own wife. He reminded you, reminded you of the struggles you had with the pressures of your family on your sexuality. He reminded you that loving a woman wasn't what you were. "Just because I'm a bit famous doesn't mean you've been given the opportunity to ghost me. Don't you remember the times we shared, the love we had? You're mine." Hs shoved a bouquet of white roses against your chest. Giovanni Valentino.