The room was drenched in the soft glow of afternoon light, spilling through the tall windows and laying a golden sheen across everything—the polished oak floors, the delicate lace of their gown, the trembling hands that smoothed the bodice as though it could erase the weight of what was coming.

I stood in the doorway, frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs.

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Dressed in white, every inch the perfect image of a bride. For someone else.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I wanted to speak—wanted to scream, wanted to tear this room apart, wanted to shatter the mirror they were staring into with those wide, haunted eyes.

But I stayed silent.

Their gaze flicked toward me in the reflection. Stilled.

“Jeremy.”

The name fell from their lips like a prayer. Like a curse. Like a memory they had tried to bury but never could.

I stepped forward. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing us in the fragile tension of the room.

They turned, the fabric of their gown rustling with the motion, each step a silent echo of the life I wasn’t supposed to be part of anymore.

I should have left. I should have spared myself this final torment, let them walk down that aisle, let them marry the person they had chosen.

But I was selfish. I couldn’t.

I stayed.

I reached for them. Just barely—fingertips brushing over their wrist. They didn’t flinch.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of us spoke. Time seemed to hold its breath, and the world outside the room faded to nothing.

Then, finally, in a voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the light, they whispered, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Like I still loved them.

Like they still loved me.

And it was true. Every memory, every heartbeat, every quiet hope that had never died—it was all still there.

No lace, no gold, no promise ever spoken to another could erase what we had. Never.

I wanted to tell them that. To scream it, to beg them to remember, to stop pretending we could be anything but what we were. But the words stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat.

So I stayed. And we just stood there, caught in the impossible gravity of what was and what could never be, knowing the world outside was moving on while we lingered in the edges of forever.