The hall buzzed with life, and I found myself cornered by a group of familiar faces from university. My head was spinning, trying to keep up with the overlapping conversations.
“Mae!” Riley’s voice rang out as she waved me over. Her long black hair framed her freckled face, and she beamed at me like no time had passed since we last saw each other. Beside her stood Jamie, leaning casually against a chair with his usual easy-going grin.
“Riley! Jamie!” I forced a smile, stepping closer. “It’s been forever.”
“It has,” Riley said, pulling me into a quick hug. “What have you been up to? Still in the city?”
“Yeah, still there. I just got a job at Summit River Corp as an application developer,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual.
Riley’s eyes widened. “Summit River? That’s amazing! Isn’t that one of those super competitive tech companies?”
Jamie’s brows rose in approval. “Mae’s going corporate now? Let me guess, you’re building the next big app that’ll make us all obsolete.”
I laughed lightly. “Not exactly. I’ll be working on backend systems for their clients’ e-commerce platforms. Lots of coding, debugging, and trying to keep up with the workload.”
“Classic Mae,” Riley teased. “Always taking on a challenge. Meanwhile, I’m over here still trying to figure out about my career.”
Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out behind me.
“I can’t believe this—Mae’s actually here!”
I turned to see Stella and Irene, my two best friends from high school, approaching with wide smiles. Stella, as always, looked effortlessly glamorous in a sleek navy dress, while Irene’s curly hair bounced as she practically skipped toward me.
“Stella! Irene!” Relief washed over me at the sight of them.
“We were looking for you,” Irene said, pulling me into a warm embrace. “How dare you try to sneak in here without saying hello.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” I said with a small laugh. “I’ve just been... caught up.”
“Well, you’re stuck with us now,” Stella declared, looping her arm through mine. “We’re not letting you wander off to mope.”
“I’m not moping,” I protested, though the words felt hollow.
“Uh-huh,” Stella said knowingly.
“Wait, who’s moping?” Riley asked, her curiosity piqued.
“No one,” I said quickly, shooting Stella a look.
Jamie leaned forward, smirking. “Now I’m curious. Mae, is there some drama we should know about? You’re usually so level-headed.”
Before I could respond, a new voice joined the group.
“Drama? At a wedding? Now this I have to hear.”
I turned to see Ava, another university friend I hadn’t expected to see here. Ava had always been the life of every party, with her sharp wit and knack for pulling people into her orbit. Today was no exception—her emerald-green dress and bold red lipstick turned heads as she sauntered over.
“Ava,” I said, surprised. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Surprise,” she said with a wink. “Kaia and I worked together on a project last year, so she invited me. And I’m so glad she did, because now I get to see all of you again.”
She looked at me closely, her expression softening. “But seriously, Mae, are you okay? You look... a little out of it.”
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice too quick, too tight.
Riley, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes. “Mae, you’re terrible at lying. Spill.”
“I...” My throat tightened. The words wouldn’t come.
Thankfully, Stella jumped in, steering the conversation away. “She’s just tired. You know how Mae is—she overthinks everything. Let’s not interrogate her.”
“Fine, fine,” Ava said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But you’re not off the hook, Mae. We’re catching up properly later.”
The group dissolved into lighter chatter after that. Ava regaled us with stories about her chaotic new job coming soon, also Riley shared updates about her travels, and Jamie joked about his failed attempts at baking after taking an online cooking class.
Through it all, I smiled and nodded, pretending to be part of the moment, but my heart wasn’t in it. Kaia’s face kept flashing in my mind—her tear-streaked cheeks, her whispered plea, her bittersweet goodbye.
“Mae, you’re quiet,” Irene said softly, nudging me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just... thinking about things.”
Irene didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, distracting me by pulling Stella into a debate about which dessert looked the best on the buffet table.
As the group laughed and chatted, I felt a strange mix of comfort and longing. These were my friends, the people who had shaped so many parts of my life, but today, even surrounded by them, I felt more alone than ever.
The laughter around our little group dissolved as the music softened, casting a gentle hush over the room. All eyes turned to the centre, where the Master of Ceremonies stood poised with a microphone, his warm, confident smile cutting through the ambient buzz.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice rang out, smooth and captivating. “May I kindly ask everyone to remain seated? It’s time for a very special moment we’ve all been waiting for.”
The crowd stilled, anticipation weaving through the air. Conversations tapered off, replaced by a quiet expectancy as the MC bowed slightly, his charm effortlessly commanding attention.
“This evening is a celebration of love,” he continued. “And now, let us turn our focus to the heart of this celebration—our radiant bride and her handsome groom. Please join me in giving them our undivided attention as they share a moment they will cherish forever.”
Soft applause rippled through the guests, a tender murmur of excitement. My heart quickened as Kaia and her groom stepped hand in hand onto the dance floor, their smiles glowing under the spotlight.
Stella leaned in, whispering, “This is where I pretend not to cry.”
I managed a faint smile, but my gaze stayed fixed on Kaia. She looked stunning—her dress shimmering as the light kissed its delicate fabric. Her groom guided her close as the first soft notes of a familiar melody floated through the air. They began to sway, lost in their own little world.
For a brief moment, the rest of the room faded away. It was just the two of them, basking in the glow of their happiness.
But as I watched them, my chest tightened, and an ache rippled through me, slow and relentless. My heart felt like it was being squeezed, heavy under the weight of emotions I refused to acknowledge. Or couldn’t.
I tried to focus on the music, the graceful movement of their steps, the way Kaia’s laughter echoed softly as she twirled under his arm. But my vision blurred, tears threatening to betray me. I blinked rapidly, swallowing hard to push the lump in my throat back down.
This was her moment—pure, radiant joy. I should’ve been happy for her, should’ve joined the others in smiling, clapping, basking in her happiness. Instead, a gnawing emptiness crept over me, hollow and unrelenting, as though something had been torn away.
Flashes of last night clawed at my mind: her tearful eyes, the way her voice had cracked when she spoke, the weight of her words lingering long after she’d left.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, desperate for the sharp sting to tether me. Around me, the crowd clapped softly, their faces bright with shared warmth. I clenched my hands in my lap, my nails pressing into my palms as I fought to keep myself together.
Kaia leaned into her groom’s shoulder, her face alight with a happiness so complete it felt like a blow. My chest felt like it might cave in, the ache unbearable. Every heartbeat was a painful reminder of the distance between us now.
I couldn’t cry. Not here, not now. I owed her—and myself—that much.
So, I plastered on a smile, even as my vision blurred. I straightened my spine, inhaled deeply, and fixed my attention on anything else—the chandelier’s intricate design, the murmurs of the crowd, the soft rustle of fabric around me. Anything to keep from breaking apart in front of everyone.
As the ceremony came to a close, I sat frozen in my seat, trying to maintain composure, even as a wave of emotion clung to me like an unwanted shadow. The soft murmurs and quiet conversations of guests around me felt distant, almost surreal. I was still reeling from the weight of the dance I had just witnessed—Kaia and her groom, so perfectly in sync, while my heart remained far from harmony.
When the confetti shots began, I excused myself from the group, needing a moment to breathe, to ground myself in the quiet corner of the room. I watched as the guests spilled out into the sunshine, smiles wide and eager, confetti fluttering through the air like little bursts of joy. Kaia and her groom had slipped away for their own photos, and the anticipation of the reception soon filled the air.
I lingered near the edge of the room, absent from the bustle, my thoughts still on Kaia and the strange, painful space between us. As the clock ticked toward 2:15 pm, the moment came for the couple to return with the photographer and begin capturing the wedding party. It was as if everything else in the world faded away as I stood and waited for my turn to smile and pose—something that had once been so natural between us, but now felt almost too hard to bear.
The photographer moved the wedding party around with practiced ease, positioning people for the perfect shots, herding us like sheep for what seemed like an eternity. I kept my distance, aware that the last thing Kaia needed was to feel the weight of my absence in this important moment. But it didn’t matter—she would have noticed me, wouldn’t she? Even if it was just a glance, a lingering smile.
It wasn’t until they began setting up for the group shots that Kaia finally caught my eye. The crowd around us shifted, guests shifting into position. Kaia had been so radiant on the dance floor, and even now, with her wedding gown in place, she glowed with an energy that seemed to encompass everything.
“Mae!” Kaia’s voice broke through my haze, full of surprise and warmth.
I froze for a moment, unsure how to approach, what to say, whether to acknowledge the invisible chasm that had opened between us in recent days. But before I could decide, she was walking toward me, her hand extended as if she hadn’t noticed the distance between us.
“Kaia,” I said softly, offering a smile I hoped didn’t betray my heartache. Her touch was like a spark—electric, familiar—but the moment still felt heavy, the weight of the unspoken things too strong for me to ignore.
“I didn’t know you were here for the photos.” She stepped closer, her dress trailing behind her in an elegant sweep.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to miss it,” I replied, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You look amazing.”
She laughed softly, a delicate sound. “You too. You look stunning, Mae. I’m so glad you came.”
Her words stung, bittersweet, because in that moment, I realized I wasn’t sure if I should be here. I had to push the lump in my throat aside, trying not to show how raw I felt. “It’s hard to miss this.”
Kaia smiled, but it was softer now, like she understood something I wasn’t ready to admit. There was a softness in her gaze, a question unspoken.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice lowering as the photographer adjusted their position behind us. I felt exposed under the weight of her question, the ache in my chest growing.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, the lie slipping out far too easily.
But Kaia knew me better than that. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching mine, as if she could see right through the facade I tried to maintain.
“Mae…” she began, her voice just above a whisper. “You don’t have to pretend.”
I drew in a shaky breath, afraid of the words that might come next, but unwilling to stay silent. “I’m happy for you,” I said, my voice cracking despite the effort to keep it steady. “I really am. I just—”
Before I could finish, the photographer called for us to move into position for the shot. Kaia squeezed my hand gently, her touch a silent comfort that grounded me as the rest of the world blurred for just a moment.
We stood together, our arms around each other, sharing a space that felt more like a fragile thread than a bond. The photographer snapped the shot, the click of the camera echoing in the air.
As the moment passed, Kaia turned toward me, her expression soft, a hint of sadness lurking in her eyes. For a brief second, the distance between us felt like it might be too much to overcome—but then, with a final glance, she was whisked away, her smile bright again as she moved to the next group.
I stayed behind, watching her, knowing that even if I didn’t say the words now, the ache in my chest would remain for a while longer.
The reception was starting soon, and I had to keep my composure. For her. For me. But mostly for the parts of us that still clung to what we’d once shared.
As the group shots began to wind down, Kaia suddenly turned to the photographer. "Wait," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Can we just have one picture of the two of us?"
The photographer nodded, adjusting her lens as she motioned for us to step forward. I didn’t know what to make of Kaia's request, but before I could process it, she was already guiding me closer.
She placed her hand on my waist, the touch warm and sure, and pulled me gently into her. The action was so natural, so intimate, that for a second, I couldn’t move. My breath caught in my throat as she drew me closer, holding me tighter, the space between us shrinking until it felt like we were the only two people in the room.
Her scent was overwhelming—sweet, delicate, like fresh flowers in bloom. It filled my senses, making my pulse race. The closeness was both comforting and painful, reminding me of everything we used to share. Her presence was a balm, but it also made the ache in my chest feel sharper.
I stood there, stunned, unable to fully grasp what she was doing. The photographer clicked away, capturing moments that felt too real, too vulnerable, but Kaia didn’t let go. She looked at me with a tenderness I hadn’t expected, her eyes soft, almost searching, as if she wanted to say something that words couldn’t quite express.
I swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Kaia,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. I wanted to ask her what this meant, why she was doing this now, but the words seemed to catch in my throat.
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she just smiled, a soft, knowing smile that seemed to say more than I could understand in that moment. It was as if she was trying to preserve this fleeting moment—preserve us—for just a little longer.
And then, as the photographer moved around us, Kaia leaned her head gently against mine. For the briefest of moments, I felt the familiar warmth of her, the closeness that used to come so easily. But I knew, even as I closed my eyes to savour it, that it wasn’t the same. There was a gap now, a distance that neither of us could bridge.
The photographer called for one more shot, and Kaia pulled away just enough for the final click. She straightened, her expression soft but determined, as if she had already said everything she needed to say.
“Thanks for doing this, Mae,” Kaia whispered, her voice quiet, but the weight of her gratitude heavy in the air.
I nodded, my heart aching even more now that she was pulling away, physically and emotionally. I forced a smile, fighting to keep my composure. “Of course,” I managed, though the words felt hollow.
As she stepped back, her hand slipping from my waist, I felt the last traces of closeness slip away with it. She was moving on, and so was I. But for now, I would carry this moment with me, tucked away in a corner of my heart—because even if we couldn’t go back, I would never forget the way she had held me, even if just for a second.