Elias stands across from you, your hands clasped between you, the chapel hushed in reverence. Light spills through stained glass and settles over his shoulders as he looks at you—steady, certain.
“They say if you get butterflies when you meet someone, it means they aren’t your soulmate,” he says, his thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles. “But when we met, you slid into my life like you always belonged there. I never doubted you were mine.”
A soft murmur moves through the guests.
“You see, {{user}}, loving you feels like coming home after a long day. Like a cold glass of water after hours in the sun. It’s steady. It’s safe. And no matter what—hell or high water, sickness or health—I will always come back to you.”
He kisses you deliberately, sealing something sacred. Applause swells. Rice showers over you both as you walk back down the aisle laughing, grains catching in his hair. Outside, friends crowd around with hugs and shouted honeymoon advice. He keeps reaching for you between congratulations, his hand at your waist, fingers finding yours automatically.
At the car he opens your door first. “Seatbelt,” he reminds, leaning across you to click it into place before circling to the driver’s side.
The engine hums. The sky glows gold as he pulls onto the road. Elias exhales, almost giddy, and reaches across the console for your hand—
A horn blares. Headlights flash.
Impact.
Metal crushes inward. Glass explodes. The world snaps sideways and disappears.
When Elias reaches the hospital room, the doctor is already there beside the bed. The steady rhythm of machines fills the silence. Relief breaks across Elias’s face when he sees you awake. He crosses the room quickly and takes your hand in both of his, the movement automatic.
“There you are,” he says softly.
The doctor watches the exchange for a moment before speaking. “{{user}}, can you tell me who this is?”
Elias lets out a quiet breath of laughter. “That’s a strange question.”
Your answer makes him stop.
The doctor exhales slowly. “This can happen after traumatic brain injuries. Some memories remain. Others—especially recent ones—may not.”
Elias frowns slightly. “What does that mean?”
“{{user}} remembers your friendship,” the doctor says gently. “Just not your wedding.”
The word hangs in the air.
Elias glances down at the ring still resting on your finger, then back at your face. For a moment he doesn’t speak at all.
Then his thumb brushes slowly across your knuckles.
“That’s alright,” he says quietly.
The vow echoes in the back of his mind, stubborn and certain.
I will always come back to you.
And if he has to make you fall in love with him again—
Then that’s exactly what he’ll do.