“You’re okay,” he whispered.
I walked.
Slowly.
Not because I wanted to be graceful.
Because my body had become unreliable.
Halfway down the aisle, I saw him.
Caleb.
Back row.
Gray suit.
Red eyes.
He looked ruined.
Good, some part of me thought.
Then another part, softer but no longer stupid, thought:
That is not my burden anymore.
When we reached the altar, my father placed my hand in Owen’s.
Then he leaned close to Owen and whispered something I could not hear.
Owen’s face softened.
Later, I learned what my father said.
“If this is only one day, make it a kind one.”
Owen had answered, “Yes, sir.”
The officiant looked nervous.
She knew enough of the situation to understand this was not normal.
Nothing about me was normal anymore.
“Dearly beloved,” she began.
A wind moved through the garden.
My veil lifted.
Owen held my hand carefully, like it was real.
That was the problem.
Everything fake had started feeling more honest than the life I planned.
When the officiant reached the vows, she paused.
“Emily and Owen have prepared their own words.”
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