"Calla, I knew I was going to marry you the third time you rejected my coffee date invitation." The guests laughed in chorus. "Because anyone that stubborn was obviously someone I needed to spend the rest of my life with."
A smile formed in my lips.
"I promise to be patient when you forget to eat because you're too focused on work," he continued. "I promise to learn how to make your grandmother's avgolémono soup, even if it takes me fifty tries. I promise to never stop trying to make you laugh, even when you pretend you don't think I'm funny."
His eyes met mine, full of sincerity. "And I promise to love you exactly as you are. Not the version of yourself you think you should be. Just you. Always."
I swallowed hard. Tears pooled in my eyes, but I managed to blink them away, as I took my turn. I had spent weekswriting and rewriting my vows, discarding draft after draft because nothing felt right. In the end, I had settled on simplicity.
"I'm not good at this," I began, my voice wavering. "Feelings. Words. Any of it. I spent most of my life believing that needing someone was a weakness and that independence meant never letting anyone close enough to hurt you."
Cassian's fingers intertwined with mine.
"Then I met you." I took a breath. "And you were so open, so unafraid of wanting things, and it terrified me.Youterrified me."
A soft ripple of laughter reverberated in the air, but it was Cassian's grin that made me calm down.
"But you were also patient. You waited. You let me come to you in my own time, at my own pace, and you never made me feel broken for being slow." I held his gaze. "I can't promise to be easy to love. But I can promise to try. To choose you, even when I'm scared. To stay, even when it’s hard."
I paused, reaching out to stroke his cheek, tracing the contours of his face. "You make me want to be brave, Cassian. That's not something I say lightly."
He blinked rapidly, and I realized he was trying not to cry. This ridiculous, wonderful man who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow loved me anyway, was tearing up because of me.
We then exchanged rings, his hands were still shaking when he slid the band onto my finger, and mine were steady only through sheer force of will. The metal was warm from his pocket, and it settled against my skin perfectly.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The words washed over me. Husband and wife. We were married.
This was real.
Cassian cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently, and the guests erupted into applause. I kissed him back with my eyes closed and my heart pounding, thinking this was the beginning of our lives together.
The reception unfolded like a fever dream. We broke plates in the traditional way, porcelain shattering against stone while guests cheered. Cassian had researched the custom thoroughly, determined to get every detail right.
"For good luck," he explained to a confused groomsman. "And to ward off evil spirits."
We danced to American music and Greek folk songs my father had insisted on, his voice rising above the crowd as he corrected Cassian's footwork during the Kalamatianos. Cassian stumbled twice and laughed both times, unbothered by imperfection I had never learned to be.
The food tasted like my childhood. Lamb and lemon and honey, recipes passed down through generations. My father had supervised the caterer personally, refusing to let strangers butcher his wife's dishes. I watched Cassian go back for thirds of the baklava and the sight that he so carefully embraced my culture warmed my heart.
Riven, Cassian’s best friend, gave his speech after the main course. He stood at the head table with a glass of wine in hand, his expression characteristically unreadable. Riven was not a warm person. He and Cassian had been friends since college, an unlikely pairing that somehow worked—where Cassian was open, Riven was guarded; where Cassian filled silences, Riven let them stretch.
In another life, Riven and I might have understood each other. We were cut from similar cloth.
"I'm not good at speeches," he began, which made several people laugh. "So I'll keep this short."
He turned toward Cassian.
"You called me at two in the morning six months ago to ask about olive tree symbolism. You had spent weeks researching Greek wedding traditions. Reading books. Watching documentaries. Taking notes." His mouth twitched, the closest he came to a smile. "Because you wanted Calla to feel like she was marrying into her own history and not leaving it behind."
I glanced at Cassian. He was watching Riven with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"That's who you are," Riven continued. "When you commit to something, you commit fully. No reservations. No half measures." He lifted his glass. "Calla, I don't know you well. But I know Cassian wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't worth choosing. So welcome to the family, I suppose. Try not to break him."
The crowd laughed. I didn't.
Because beneath the dry delivery, I heard what Riven wasn't saying. It was a warning wrapped in welcome.Don't hurt him. He's already given you everything.
