You never believed in destiny. Much less in promises made by families before their children were even born. And yet, there you were, with the white dress too tight on your chest and the muffled sound of conversations in the hall weighing on your ears.

He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease.

David, the name you had heard your whole life, but never wanted to say out loud. He smiled when he saw you entering the ceremony, as if everything was in place. As if the whole world was waiting for this moment with the same anxiety as him.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, when he got closer. The sincerity in his gaze disconcerted you.

But you didn't answer. Your silence said it all. It said that this wedding was a prison with flowers and a veil.

Even so, he held your hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Not tightly. Carefully. Like someone who understands that something too precious can slip away if held too tightly.

"I know you don't want this," he said, as the guests applauded, blind with joy. "But I've waited for you my whole life. And if I have to... I'll keep waiting, even after you say 'I do.”

Your heart didn't change. But for the first time, it shook.