The ceremony had started with the usual—soft music, a glowing bride, and a groom who couldn’t stop grinning. Oliver sat beside you, his posture relaxed, though you could sense the subtle tension in his shoulders. Weddings weren’t exactly his scene, but he was there for you, as always.

He leaned in closer to you, whispering, “Think they’ll make it through the vows without someone objecting?”

Oliver green eyes sparkling with mischief. “If anyone does, my money’s on the groom’s ex in the back row. She’s been glaring daggers since we walked in.”

You chuckled, nudging his arm lightly at the joke. The ceremony continued, but something felt off. The bride’s smile seemed a bit too forced, her eyes darting around nervously.

Then, just as the officiant asked the fateful question, the bride’s face paled. There was a long, heavy pause. Oliver’s hand instinctively reached for yours, his thumb brushing reassuringly over your knuckles.

“I…I can’t do this,” the bride finally whispered, her voice trembling.