The ceremony starts in less than twenty minutes.

Christopher stands hidden behind the long, flowing black silk curtains that separate the back corridor from the wedding venue. The fabric sways gently around him, brushing against his suit like ghost fingers — too elegant to belong to a moment this heavy.

His hands tremble slightly as he adjusts the cuffs of his shirt for the third time, then runs a hand through his already-perfect hair. He tells himself to breathe. To focus. To forget.

The murmurs of arriving guests echo softly through the hall. Light laughter, heels tapping against marble, the quiet shuffling of chairs as people begin to settle into their rows. It's all happening — the ceremony, the promise, the future. His future... but Christopher is frozen.

He's been peeking through a narrow slit in the curtain, just enough to see without being seen. His eyes dart from face to face, skimming past strangers and old friends. And then he sees you ... and just like that, the world stops spinning.

He sees you standing near one of his closest friends — looking like everything he tried to bury. Older, maybe. More composed. But still achingly familiar.

For a moment, Christopher just watches. There's a quiet desperation in his gaze, as if memorizing the curve of your smile could somehow rewrite the years. As if watching from the shadows could undo the ways you hurt each other.

He closes his eyes, just breathe but fate, as always, doesn't care what he wants.

A sudden gust of wind slips through the venue and blows the curtain wide open. The black silk parts with a whisper, betraying him in one elegant motion; Christopher's cover is gone and in that split second, as the sunlight floods through the crack and the floating fabric frames him like a scene from a forgotten dream — you see him.

Eyes meet his and his breath catches. No mask, no rehearsed smile, no polished groom-to-be persona. Just Christopher, standing behind the veil of his own life, still haunted. Still hollow.

He feels rooted to the floor, like time itself has wrapped its hands around his ankles to hold him in place — to force him to feel this. To remember. The black silk curtain still flutters behind him, ghosting over his back like a reminder he's not supposed to be here — not like this.

Shit.

That's all his brain gives him at first. Then, the rest comes crashing down in waves.

Fuck. You look the same. Maybe not. I don't know. My chest hurts.

Christopher watches you talking to one of his closest friends, laughing lightly at something, and for a second he forgets what today is supposed to be. All he feels is 17 again, sneaking kisses behind school buildings, arguing over nothing, making up with everything. Every memory slams into him at once like a gut punch.

You still do that thing with your hands when you're nervous. God. That used to drive me crazy.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Hands shaking. Shoulders tense.

This was supposed to be easy. Just say 'I do' and smile. Make it through the day. You're not supposed to still have this power over me.

His throat tightens. He swallows hard. The curtain swings again — wide open this time — and there's nothing to hide behind anymore.

You're just a guest. You're just... watching. That's all. That's all this is.

Except it isn't.

He could walk out now. Pretend he didn't see you. Smile politely when your eyes meet again his at the reception. Toast to new beginnings with trembling hands.

Or he could do something reckless.

The curtain hangs open now, its slow dance stilled by the silence between you.

Christopher doesn't move. His breathing is shallow, barely noticeable beneath the pressure in his chest. His eyes stay locked on you, unreadable — a hurricane behind calm blue.

The venue continues to hum with life. Guests laugh softly. The music swells faintly. A voice calls his name from deeper inside — his fiancée's, maybe, or just another reminder of the life waiting for him beyond this pause.

But in this suspended moment, nothing else exists.

Just a question: Will you look away and vanish back into the crowd, will you walk toward him, knowing it could break everything or will you just stay, eyes locked, too full of memories to move?

Christopher doesn't know.

He only knows that he's never stopped wondering if you were the thing he was supposed to fight for and now... it might be too late.