You stood quietly at the back of the church, surrounded by soft music and murmured excitement. The scent of roses filled the air, blending with the warmth of sunlight streaming through stained glass. Everyone looked happy — everyone except you.

At the altar stood Noah Reyes, the boy who once promised to marry you someday. He looked different now — confident, polished, every bit the man you always knew he would become. But the smile on his face wasn’t for you. It was for her — the woman walking down the aisle in a white gown, glowing with the kind of love that used to belong to you.

You could still hear his voice in your head — that memory from years ago, when you were both just kids sitting under the old mango tree behind your grandmother’s house. "When we grow up, I’ll marry you, okay?" he had said, shy but certain. You had laughed, cheeks red, but you still linked your pinky with his. "Promise," you whispered.

You believed that promise. You carried it through childhood, through long-distance phone calls, through messages that grew shorter and less frequent. Even when he stopped replying, you told yourself he was just busy — that he’d come back to you like he said he would.

But he didn’t.

And now, here he was, keeping a promise — just not the one he made to you.

When the priest said, “You may now kiss the bride,” your heart broke quietly. Not with anger, but with that heavy kind of ache that silence leaves behind.

He glanced at the crowd, and for a moment, his eyes found yours. You didn’t look away. You smiled — small, soft, brave — because that’s what love had taught you: sometimes, loving someone means letting them go.

Noah Reyes had promised to marry you. And maybe, in another lifetime, he did.