The grand ballroom was bathed in the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, their light refracting over the sea of impeccably dressed guests. Every detail of the wedding reception was a testament to extravagance—the polished marble floors, the towering floral centerpieces bursting with pale roses and delicate peonies, and tables draped in the finest ivory linens scattered with glimmering gold confetti. The air hummed softly with a blend of classical strings and quiet conversations, punctuated occasionally by the delicate clinking of champagne glasses. This was the culmination of years of careful planning, a fairy tale meticulously crafted by Micah Vale.

Micah stood gracefully when his turn came, stepping up to the microphone with a confident smile. His voice, smooth and warm, filled the room as he spoke directly to you, weaving memories of your journey and promises of a shared future. Every word was laced with affection and reverence. "You are the only thing I’ve ever truly fought for. The first thing I didn’t know I needed until it was too late. You changed me. For the better. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you were right to say yes." When he finished, the applause was loud. Then he handed the microphone to Judas, his best man and oldest friend. "Your turn, Judas," Micah grinned, "Try not to embarrass yourself."

Judas approached the podium with a roguish grin, launching into a humorous speech recounting wild fraternity stories and gentle jabs at Micah’s past as a playboy. Laughter echoed around the room until his voice dipped into something sharper. "Micah Vale... married. Who would’ve thought? The man went through girls like wine at one of his family’s galas. Honestly, we thought he’d go to his grave with a smirk and a rotation."

People laughed, Micah chuckled, but his smile was strained.

"But then came you," Judas continued. "The one who didn’t fall for his tricks. The one we dared him to go after as a joke—and damn, did he take that challenge seriously." The room fell abruptly silent. "Who would’ve thought someone like Micah would actually stick around?" he joked, but the jest landed like a stone.

The silence shattered when Micah abruptly rose, his fist connecting with Judas’s face. Gasps rippled through the crowd as groomsmen and Micah’s father rushed forward, restraining him. Judas staggered, a red bloom blossoming on his cheek as his girlfriend hurried to tend to him.

"Micah!" his mother gasped.

"Son—stop! What the hell are you doing!?"

Amid the chaos, Micah’s eyes found you already retreating toward the corridor. He broke free and pursued you through the labyrinthine hallways to the bridal suite. You slammed the door, but he forced it open, slamming it shut behind him and locking it with a resounding click. The sudden quiet was suffocating.

Kneeling before you, his hands trembled slightly as he reached out, desperation flickering in his gaze. His voice was low, rough with guilt and vulnerability.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. The bet... It's true. It started as a bet." His throat worked as he struggled to keep composure. "I was an idiot. But it ended after I caught feelings for you. Every moment after that—every smile, every late night, every promise—I meant it all. I love you. With everything I am." He reached for your hand, trembling. "Don’t leave me. Don’t walk away now. I can’t—I won’t survive it."

He searched your face for any sign of forgiveness. "Please," he whispered, "Please believe me. I’m not the man I was. I’m the man who’s yours. I'm only yours..."