I stared at the envelope in my hands like it might catch fire if I held it too long.

The gold-embossed lettering spelled out his name in the same confident script I’d once doodled in my notebooks, back when I was sixteen, hopelessly and silently in love.

Lark & Elara.

Together, forever.

Thurstaday, february 13th.

4:00 PM. St. Adelaide’s Church. Reception to follow.

I read it twice. Three times. Like the words might change if I looked hard enough.

They didn’t.

“I can’t believe he actually sent you an invitation,” Ishang muttered from my couch, curled up with a bowl of popcorn like we were about to watch some tragic drama. Which, in a way, we were.

“I mean… we’re still friends,” I said, though the words tasted like denial.

“Friends, sure. But inviting you almost to your wedding? That’s a little bold.”

I didn’t reply. Because the truth was, I had no idea what I was supposed to feel.

Shock?

Sadness?

Jealousy?

Gratitude?

Maybe all of them.

Maybe none.

A decade of friendship. Six years of something more. Three years of courtship. And zero months as an actual couple.

That was our story. The love that never quite made it past the "what if."

“I’m not going,” I said finally, placing the invitation back on the table like it offended me.

Ishang snorted. “Yes, you are.”

I gave her a look. “No, I’m really not.”

“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind. You always do.” She stood up and went to the bathroom, before she entered she looked at me and pointed a finger at me while saying does words.

I hated that she was probably right.

Because even though my chest felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands, some irrational part of me needed to see him. One last time. Just to make sure he was really happy. Just to convince myself that letting him go was the right thing to do.

Or maybe I just needed closure. I sigh.

“Closure is a scam,” Ishang said, like she’d read my mind. “We tell ourselves we want it, but really we just want one more moment.” She said with a toothbrushin her mouth.

I didn’t argue with her... Because again, she's right.

Instead, I got up, walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of wine. My hands trembled as I held the glass.

Or maybe it was my heart.

 It had a habit of misbehaving when it came to Lark.

I took a long sip.

“Should I bring a date?” I asked suddenly, the words surprising even me.

Ishang raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a date?”

“No. But that’s beside the point.”

“Well, if you’re gonna show up at your not-ex’s wedding, might as well make an entrance.”

I gave her a weak smile. “You volunteering?”

“Obviously. Someone has to hold your hand when your emotional dam breaks and you start ugly crying in the pews.”

I laughed. It wasn’t full, but it was real.

And in that moment, I knew she was right. I would go.

Not because I wanted to ruin his day. Not because I hoped for some dramatic love confession.

But because part of healing is facing the past—even when it still hurts.

^^^End of Chapter 1^^^

There’s something oddly intimate about choosing an outfit for your ex-almost-lover’s wedding.

It’s not like I was planning to seduce anyone. This wasn’t a rom-com where I’d burst through the chapel doors and object at the altar. No—this was real life. Messy. Uneven. Unforgiving.

But still… I wanted to look okay. Not breathtaking. Not dramatic. Just okay. Like I had moved on. Like my heart hadn’t been fraying at the edges since I opened that invitation.

“Too much cleavage,” Ishang muttered as I stepped out of the dressing room.

I glanced down. “I mean, it’s not like I’m dressing for him.”

“You’re not dressing for him, you’re dressing for you.” She crossed her arms, examining me like a fashion judge on reality TV. “And the version of you who’s thriving would not wear that. Try again.”

I groaned and disappeared behind the curtain again. I had already tried five dresses. Too formal. Too plain. Too soft. Too… not me.

The truth was—I didn’t know who I was anymore. Not around him.

Back in college, I was the confident, headstrong version of myself. The girl who climbed mountains, both literally and metaphorically. I had dreams. I had plans. I had Lark, waiting patiently on the sidelines.

Now, I was just someone trying to survive a wedding with her dignity intact.

“Okay,” I called out as I stepped out again, this time in a dark green satin dress. It hugged my waist, flared at the hem, and draped across my shoulders like armor. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t trying too hard. It was honest. It was peaceful.

Ishang stared for a moment, then gave a single nod. “That’s the one.”

“You sure?” I turned to look in the mirror.

I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. Not entirely. She looked… composed. Like she could sit through this wedding and not fall apart.

“That color suits you,” Ishang added. “It’s calm. But it doesn’t fade.”

I blinked fast. “I just need to survive a few hours.”

“You need to stop pretending this is a battlefield,” she said softly, stepping beside me. “You’re not going to war. You’re going to a celebration. Even if it’s not yours.”

Her words landed like a gentle slap.

She was right. Again.

Lark had moved on. He was building something with someone else something beautiful and lasting. And I was still here, treating this wedding like a final exam I hadn’t studied for.

Maybe it was time to shift the perspective.

Maybe this wasn’t the ending.

Maybe it was the beginning.

Of what? I wasn’t sure yet.

But as I looked at myself in the mirror, in that dark green satin dress, I realized something important.

I didn’t want to win him back.

I just wanted to stop losing myself every time I thought about what we could’ve been.

I turned to Ishang, finally smiling. “Okay. Let’s buy the damn dress.”

She grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

We both laugh.

^^^End of chapter 2^^^

The church bells tolled, soft and solemn, as guests shuffled into pews lined with white roses and flickering candles. Everything looked beautiful like a dream someone else had built.

I stood at the entrance for a long moment, just breathing. Trying not to bolt.

Ishang gently nudged me forward. “Come on. We’re already here.”

I nodded, legs heavy. Each step down the aisle felt like walking through water. We found our seats near the back, quiet enough to be invisible, but close enough to see him.

And there he was.

Lark.

He stood at the altar, hands folded, chin lifted, waiting for his bride. His suit was sharp. His posture is calm. But it was the look on his face that undid me.

Peaceful.

 Certain.

Radiating joy.

It was the same look he used to give me when we talked about the future under the ceiling of my room. Only now, it wasn’t mine.

The music changed. The guests stood.

And then… Elara walked in.

She was stunning. Soft lace, windswept hair, that serene, glowy kind of beauty reserved for brides and fairytales. Lark’s eyes sparkled the moment he saw her. Like she was everything he’d ever waited for.

My chest ached, a slow-burning twist that crept through my ribs and settled in my throat.

“Do you regret it now?” Ishang suddenly muttered, not looking at me.

I scoffed quietly, trying to mask the tightness that wrapped itself around my chest. “No. I don’t regret letting him go…”

My voice cracked on the word go.

“But I also didn’t expect my decision to lead to this.” I lowered my gaze. My eyes shimmered with unshed grief, but I blinked it back, refusing to let it spill over. “I—I didn’t think he’d be tied down this fast…”

"Are you okay? Should we go home?" she asked looking worried like she didn't insistently push me to come.

“I thought I was okay,” I admitted. “But I guess I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not,” she said, with a softness that surprised me. “You two have been friends for decades. You spent years hiding your feelings. You watched him grow, evolve—you were his safe space. Of course, it still hurts.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Lark and I had history. Not the kind you scrapbook, but the kind that lingers in the spaces between conversations and memories. We met in grade school. We grew up like vines tangled in the same soil. Best friends, always circling something more.

In college, he waited for me.

Three years.

And I never said yes.

Not because I didn’t love him, but because I thought we had more time.

If someone asked why we never ended up together, I’d say we just… drifted. That love alone wasn’t enough. That timing betrayed us.

Because it did.

“Friend,” Ishang leaned closer, her tone a little teasing, “Lark and you were never even official. So why are you sulking like a heartbroken ex?”

“Hey, FYI—he courted me for almost three years!” I hissed, trying to stay quiet.

“Yeah, and you never said yes. That’s on you.”

I slumped back in my chair, defeated. “I didn’t back out. I just… thought we had more time. I thought there was no need to rush.”

But time didn’t wait for us.

At the altar, Lark took Elara’s hands in his, his face radiant with a kind of happiness I’d never seen before. The kind I’d only imagined he’d have—with me.

That smile… it used to be mine.

Ishang nudged me. “So? What’s your realization now?”

“That I was stupid,” I whispered.

“Exactly.” She smirked, but her gaze softened. “But you’re here. You came. You’re watching him get married. That means something.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to cry. “It means… it’s time to let go.”

She nodded. “You’ve been carrying these feelings for too long. Maybe it’s finally time to put them down.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “And how exactly do I do that?”

“Start by admitting it,” she said, gently. “Not just to me but also to yourself.”

The church bells rang again, this time for their first kiss.

I closed my eyes. Swallowed the lump in my throat.

And then I smiled.

It was small, fragile but real one.

Maybe it really was time.

Time to stop wondering.

Time to move forward.

^^^End of Chapter 3^^^