One breezy afternoon, while Rainan was helping his father sweep fallen leaves off the porch, his mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Oh, Rainan,” she called, as if remembering something, “we’re invited to a wedding this Sunday.”
Rainan looked up. “A wedding?”
She smiled. “Yes, anak. Remember the Escaleras? Their daughter’s getting married. We used to visit them when you were younger—her mother and I were good friends back in the day.”
Rainan tried to recall the face of the bride but only came up with blurry memories of running around at summer picnics. Still, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
His mother’s smile widened with approval. “That’s good. It’ll be nice to see old friends. And besides…” she added, glancing at him teasingly, “you could use more weddings in your life, don’t you think?”
He chuckled faintly and shook his head.
When the day of the wedding arrived, the small town chapel buzzed with familiar faces dressed in their Sunday best. The decorations were soft and delicate—white blooms wrapped in pale ribbons, sunlight streaming in through stained glass, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. The celebration was intimate, heartfelt, and brimming with the kind of joy that could only come from a close-knit community.
Among the guests were Angelo’s family, too. Mikaela sat near the front pew with her husband and little Clara, who looked adorable in her flower girl dress, clutching her tiny basket with wide, serious eyes. Everyone was smiling, laughing in hushed tones, and sharing memories while waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle.
But Rainan couldn’t quite bring himself to join in fully.
As the ceremony began, and the couple exchanged tender vows beneath the soft glow of the altar lights, something inside Rainan shifted. He sat in still silence, eyes on the bride but mind miles away. His heart twisted in quiet ache. 
His mind wandered—Will I ever get to do this? Stand at an altar, hold someone’s hands, promise a future I know I have? The thought came heavy and quiet. If I weren’t sick… would I have stayed in the city forever? Would I have come home at all? Would I have loved as deeply as I should have?
It was difficult not to feel a strange sort of ache. He looked at the joy lighting up the bride’s face, the groom’s trembling hands as he placed the ring on her finger. That sacred moment—it felt like something from another world. One that Rainan could watch, but never step into.
Would he have even come home if he weren’t dying?
The thought stabbed deeper than expected, and the weight of it nearly pushed tears to his eyes. He sat there questioning everything—God, fate, even his own choices. The silence in his heart filled with whispers: Why this illness? Why now, when he was just beginning to feel alive again? Why did love have to arrive when he had so little left? What kind of future could he still hope for, when so much of it seemed to have already slipped away?
He lowered his head slightly, swallowing the tightness in his throat.
And then—quietly, without a word—a warm hand gently slid over his.
Startled, Rainan turned to his side, and there was Angelo, sitting beside him. Their eyes met.
Angelo didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His gaze was steady and filled with something warm—something certain. With a soft smile, he gently tugged Rainan’s hand closer, slipping both of theirs into the inside pocket of his blazer, hidden away from everyone’s sight. Just the two of them, sharing a small secret in the middle of a celebration.
The warmth of that single gesture grounded Rainan. It was like the world had paused for a second, and all the noise, all the sorrow and uncertainty melted into stillness. In that moment, Rainan didn’t feel lost or broken. He felt seen. He felt safe.
Maybe I won’t get forever, Rainan thought, but maybe I still have today. And maybe… that’s enough.
And as he sat there, hand in hand with Angelo, listening to promises of forever being exchanged at the altar, Rainan stopped asking questions. He let out a quiet breath and leaned ever so slightly toward Angelo, letting the warmth of that shared moment wash over him. The sound of vows returned to his ears, and for the first time since arriving, Rainan listened—not with envy or sorrow, but with the fragile hope that love, in its truest form, could still find him.
Just for now. He let himself believe that even in the limited time he had, this—whatever this was—could still be something real. Something beautiful. Something that mattered.