Chapter 7
Nathan and I did not have the wedding I planned.
There were fewer guests.
No first dance.
No late-night party.
No dramatic kiss under fireworks.
After the ceremony, I sat beneath the trees with a blanket over my knees while Nathan brought me water and my father pretended not to watch us every second.
People came one by one to hug me carefully.
No one said goodbye.
I had told them not to.
When the sun began to lower, Nathan sat beside me.
“You know this doesn’t have to become anything you don’t want,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Are you trying to return yourself?”
He laughed softly.
“No. I’m trying not to become another man who decides your life for you.”
That was the moment I reached for his hand.
Not because I needed a groom.
Because I wanted this man beside me for the time I had.
Maybe it would be months.
Maybe years.
Maybe less than either of us were brave enough to say.
But that afternoon in the garden, I was not a tragedy.
I was not abandoned.
I was not a diagnosis in a white dress.
I was a bride.
A woman.
A person still capable of being loved without being pitied.
Later, when the guests had gone and the flowers were beginning to wilt, my father stood with Nathan near the arch.
I could not hear everything they said.
But I saw Dad offer his hand.
I saw Nathan take it.
Then Dad pulled him into a hug.
That was when I finally let myself smile.
People always ask if Nathan and I stayed married.
They ask carefully, like the answer might be too sad to hold.
Here is the truth.
He stayed.
Through the quiet days.
Through the difficult mornings.
Through every appointment where I told him he could leave and every night he answered by pulling the blanket higher over my shoulders.
He stayed not because he was paid.
He stayed because he had made one condition before taking the role.
May you like
If I marry you, I mean it.
And for whatever time I was given, he did.
