The church was heavy with silence, broken only by the priest’s calm, steady words that seemed to echo off the vaulted ceiling. Candles lined the altar, their flames flickering with every small draft, and though the pews were filled with faces, all you saw was Simon.

He stood before you, tall and unyielding in his suit, shoulders squared as though braced for battle. His mask of stoicism cracked only for you—his eyes softened, following every flicker of your expression. You tilted your chin up slightly, meeting his gaze, and the moment stretched. It was just the two of you now, standing against the weight of the world.

When you leaned forward just a fraction, your nose brushed his. It wasn’t planned, wasn’t staged, but it made something inside your chest break open. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, grounding you when your hands trembled in his.

Behind you, your parents sat rigid in the pews. Their disapproval was a quiet, sharp presence, pressing into your back like a knife. They had never wanted this—never wanted him. To them, Simon Riley wasn’t the right match: his past was too dark, his world too dangerous. And yet here you were, with his hand wrapped around yours, defying everything they had tried to keep from happening.

The secret you carried made your heart pound harder. Two months along, barely showing, but the knowledge of it lived in every thought, every promise. Simon didn’t just have your hand—he held your future, your child’s future. When you had whispered the news to him weeks ago, he hadn’t flinched. He had only pulled you against his chest, voice gruff and firm: “Then we’ll do this together.”

Now, as the priest’s words rolled over you both, Simon’s thumb brushed across your knuckles, steady and slow. A vow before the vow. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not even when the priest asked him to repeat after him. He spoke the words low, almost growling, but clear.

Your parents’ stares burned, but Simon’s gaze burned hotter—protective, unrelenting, filled with something no one else could touch. And as your noses still brushed, as if refusing to part even for breath, you realized this wasn’t just a marriage. It was defiance, it was a promise, it was the first step into a future that terrified everyone but the two of you.

When the priest finally declared you husband and wife, Simon didn’t wait for permission. His lips found yours, firm and certain, sealing everything—the vows, the defiance, the child growing inside you.