The sun beat down on the backyard, making the white lace of your dress feel suffocating. Roses, pink and white, spilled from every arbor, their scent too sweet. Your father, steady at your side, walked you down the aisle. Each step thudded against the grass, dread rising in your chest. You scanned the faces—the smiles, your eyes caught on every empty chair. Every stranger, yet he wasn’t here.

Last night, wine burned through your chest as you stared at your phone. Maybe it was the alcohol to blame—but in that moment all your reasoning vanished.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” you’d typed. “If you show up, I’ll leave. For you.”

It was reckless. A Desperate plea. Daniel. Your Daniel. Best friends since childhood, lovers in college. It was all perfect—until a stupid fight broke everything. You stayed friends, barely.

Now, your fiancé waited with an earnest smile. He was a good man. Yet, sometimes, even with him, it felt empty. The spark you’d shared with Daniel, was unreplaceable. The ceremony passed in a blur. No interruptions. No declarations. Just polite applause.

Later, music pounded through the night. Your husband laughed with his friends, distant. “I just need a moment,” you told him, slipping away to a quiet corner.

You opened Daniel’s messages. Just “Read.” No reply. Your stomach sank. Thinking of what could possibly happen..And why hadn’t his mother come either? You dialed her. Ring. Ring. Ring.

Finally, her voice, thick with tears, answered. “Oh, darling,” she choked out. “Oh, my sweet pea. Daniel… he was on his way. There was an accident.” A breath. A sob.

“He’s in the hospital. Critical. In a coma.”

The phone slipped from your hand, landing on the grass with a soft thud.