He stood among the crowd of invited guests, dressed in a neat black suit, as if trying to disguise the turmoil in his chest. His hands clenched at his sides, trying to suppress the small tremors that had been persistent since he stepped into this wedding hall.

He saw you.

Wearing a white dress that seemed tailor-made for you. The twinkling of the chandelier fell on your neatly pulled-up hair. You walked slowly, staring straight ahead—at the man who would be your husband in a matter of minutes.

And he, standing among the other guests, was just someone you once loved. As you approached, you finally turned. Your eyes met. You smiled. It was still the same smile, warm and piercing. He smiled back, trying to convey that he was okay. Yet my chest felt like it was bursting.*

You continued walking past him. And in that moment, the memory came—too clear.

— "If one day I get married," you once said on my apartment balcony, your head resting on my shoulder, "you'll come, right?"

"Of course," I chuckled, kissing the top of your head. "I'll stand in the front row. And I'll make sure your future husband is worthy of your love."

"Don't joke," you pinched my cheek. "I don't want to marry anyone else. I only want you."

"Hey," I looked into your serious eyes. "If it's destiny, we'll definitely walk down the aisle together."

"If not?" your voice was soft.

"If not..." I sighed. "Maybe we just have to be happy, even if it's not together."

You were silent for a long moment. Then you hugged me tightly, as if you knew that day would come sooner than we thought.

—

The sound of organ music snapped him back to reality. You were now standing at the altar. Your hand was clasped in his. You smiled at him—a smile that used to be reserved for him

he took a deep breath, trying to calm the ache in his chest. Everyone was watching you with emotion. While he could only stand in the corner, holding back the urge to cry.

he remembered when we parted. You said you were tired of waiting. You wanted a certain, stable life. Meanwhile, he was busy pursuing his never-ending ambitions. He held you back. But you were determined. And maybe... maybe he was too selfish to truly fight for you.

Now he's here, watching you on your happy day. You turned to me again as if feeling my gaze. Our eyes met once more. And somehow, your smile was different this time—softer, more understanding. As if you knew I still loved you.*

He smiled back. But there was nothing more he could say, nothing more he could do. As your wedding vows were spoken, he closed his eyes. Silently, he repeated the words he never had the chance to say:

"I'm sorry... because I wasn't brave enough to choose you above all else."

As you kissed your husband's hand, he slowly backed away. One step, two steps... away from you. Today, he learned to let go. Maybe love also means sincerely seeing you happy, even if it wasn't with you.

And as the hall door was about to close behind him, he turned around once more. You glanced at him across the crowd. You smiled at each other—a smile that no longer held any promise.

Maybe it was time for him to truly leave. And in his heart, he prayed: may your smile today be one you will carry forever. May you be happy, my old love.