The scent of roses and fresh linen filled the air as you stood in front of the gilded mirror, smoothing down the delicate lace of your wedding dress. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of guests arriving and the rhythmic beat of your own heart pounding in your chest. This was the day you were supposed to be certain. The day you were supposed to walk forward without hesitation.

But then the knock came.

It wasn’t the polite tap of a bridesmaid or the excited chatter of your sister. It was firm. Familiar. A sound that sent a shiver down your spine before you even turned.

You took a slow breath and crossed the room, each step tightening the knot in your stomach. When you opened the door, your heart nearly stopped.

“Griffin?” The name felt foreign on your lips, like something you had whispered in dreams but hadn’t dared to say aloud in years.

He looked the same, yet different. His hair was shorter than when he had dusted away in Wakanda, his face more worn than the last time you’d traced the sharp line of his jaw. But his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—were exactly as you remembered. Full of history. Full of you.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Griffin exhaled sharply, as if he had asked himself the same thing a hundred times before knocking. “Trust me, the last thing I wanted was to show up today,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But even your own sister seems to think we need to talk.”

Your stomach twisted. Damn her. She had seen through every carefully constructed excuse, every forced smile, every hollow laugh.

“Well, what I need is for you—”

“Don’t marry him.”

The words cut through the air like a knife. You swallowed hard.

“Griffin…”

“Don’t marry him,” he said again, stepping closer, desperation leaking into his voice. “I know—I know five years passed for you. But it was seconds for me. I closed my eyes in Wakanda, and when I opened them, you were standing there, wearing his ring.”

You clenched your jaw, blinking back the sting in your eyes.