A soft ache blooms in my throat—a quiet little grief I thought I’d learned to live with long ago, resurfacing in one sharp breath. I press the ring flat against my palm and close my eyes.
I wish you were here, Mom.
I wish you could see me.
I wish you could tell me I’m doing the right thing.
The chapel door creaks softly behind me.
“Hey.” Caden’s voice is quiet, gentler than I’ve heard it in days.
I open my eyes, turning slightly. He stands a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his charcoal suit pants. His tie is undone around his neck, like he tried to finish getting ready but couldn’t quite manage it without checking on me first.
When our gazes meet, his eyes soften immediately.
“You’re supposed to be hiding out until I’m at the front,” I say, trying to smile.
“Couldn’t wait that long.” He steps closer. “You looked… lost.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He doesn’t challenge the words.
He just looks down at my hand—the one fiddling with the ring—and then slowly lifts his eyes to mine again.
“You’re sad,” he says, no hesitation, no apology for noticing. “Tell me.”
I swallow hard. “I was just thinking about my parents.”
His expression shifts—something like regret and tenderness mixing together. He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want. I don’t. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady.
“I’m sorry they’re not here,” he says quietly.
The words flatten me.
Not because they’re dramatic—he never is—but because they’re sincere.
Raw.
Without defensiveness.
Without expectation.
Just the truth.
“I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle,” I admit, voice tight. “I used to picture it when I was little. Him standing tall and proud. My mom crying because she always cried at everything.” A breathy laugh escapes me. “Even commercials.”
Caden’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. “You deserved all of that, Kamiyah.”
I blink hard, but tears push through anyway. He steps closer until I can feel the warmth of his body in the cool morning air.
“And I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the wedding you dreamed of. Sorry this is rushed and quiet and hidden out here in the middle of nowhere.” His voice dips lower. “You deserve a cathedral. Music. Flowers in every aisle. A dress you spent months choosing. And your father walking you down that aisle with your mother crying in the front row.”
A tear slips free down my cheek.
He catches it with his thumb, the gesture so gentle it cracks something open in my chest. “But I promise you this,” he says, his gaze locking to mine. “When this is over—when your aunt isn’t looming over us like a storm cloud—when we’ve fought our way through every obstacle she’s thrown at us…” He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my ring finger. “I will give you the wedding you deserve. Every detail. Every moment. Everything you never got to have.”
My breath catches. “Caden…”
