Wedding Day

White rose petals fell from the azure skies. I lift my hand, catching one of the falling petals. I adored how soft it felt, how light it was. It was a beautiful day indeed. There was not a single cloud in the glass-clear skies. The weather was cool with gentle breeze, reminding me of your touches.

Today was the wedding we had all been waiting for. You had really listened to me; everything was how I had imagined---the guests, consisting of our relatives and closest friends, sitting in the middle of a garden, multi-layered traditional cake with vanilla frosting, a classic wedding themed with white flowers…I was so surprised when you told me your plans for the wedding.

You looked even more handsome in your tuxedo. I liked how the white rose matched your pearl white shirt, how the clothing fitted your body so well, how the way you smiled brightened up my day, how the warming look in your eyes stole my breath away. Even on an important day such as this, your blond hair was still messy as ever, but I loved the way it was.

One step, two steps. I could almost see how nervous You were with each approaching step. Your face was flushed with cherry red, coloring your usually pale cheeks, adorning your features. It was so easy to know after spending all these years beside you. I knew you like no other. You pulled your collar--- a habit you could never get rid of--- and ran your hand through your messy hair. I nearly laughed out loud at your child-like behavior, like a young boy at your first date. Cute.

I thought about the times we’d spent together, and the laughs we’d shared. We met at high school, where it all began. I thought you were merely another boy, a boy that would simply walk out of my life as easy as you walked into it. I was wrong. You had proved to be not just your average boy, but a boy who would leave never-fading footprints in my heart, which you had took it over time and declared as your own. It didn’t belong to me anymore, it belonged to you. Yet I didn’t mind for I had given you my heart willingly, gladly, and completely.

You were with me through the good and bad times. I remembered the necklace you had given me the year before for Christmas. It was a teardrop-shaped silver locket with a sapphire in the middle. I begged you to take it back because I had refused to receive such an expensive gift from you as mine was simply a hand-made wool sweater. I nearly cried when you opened my present, but your smile was all it needed to cease my weeping. You said you loved it, and put it on to show me. It felt good to know you cared for me. It wasn’t until later I had discovered you were actually allergic to wool. I was so scared then, and freaked out, making you promise you’d never try to do anything dangerous just to cheer me up. You agreed reluctantly.

I also recalled the time when my grandmother passed away in an accident. You were the shoulder I cried on. You didn’t care if I stained your clothes with tears, or my continuous rambling on how I missed my grandmother and how I wished I had treated her better. You sat silently, listening to me with patience no one was capable of.

Did you know? You made me the person I was now. I dyed my hair blond when you had once mentioned you preferred blonds over any other hair colors. You knew I was the most boyish girl in the block, right? People thought my hormones had finally kicked in when I decided to throw out all the hoodies and jeans, replacing them with dresses and skirts, skateboards with purses. I learnt how to do make up too. However, they were wrong. It wasn’t the hormone, it was you. I had caught wind on your ‘cup of tea’, so to speak. I had changed my attitude and rude gestures into polite manners, hoping to catch your eyes. I wasn’t happy when people complimented on my changes, but I was delighted when you commented on the new me. I knew you saw the changes in me.

The music stopped with a graceful end. I petted my white dress anxiously, anticipating for your next move. The guests held their breath as you lift up the veil slowly, taking in the scene before you. I knew you loved it, you eyes told me that much. It was a magical moment, a moment when sparks danced across the room, filling the space with your visible love.

‘Do you, Danny Smith, take this lovely woman as your beloved wedded wife?’

‘I do,’ you said without hesitation.

‘Do you, Sarah Knightly, take this man as your beloved wedded husband?’

My lips moved on its own.

‘I do.’

‘You may now kiss the bride,’ the priest finished, giving you a light push and a wink. I rolled my eyes. I did tell you not to ask your friend, William, to be the priest. You never listened. The guests were chuckling in amusement, some were probably laughing their heads of inside.

I watched as you leaned closer, and kissed with all your might. Cheers erupted from all around us, the perfect curtain call for this wonderful day. I stood up, walking away from the scene. I could bear no longer, I couldn’t watch.

In the end, you had chosen someone else instead of me. Maybe you had seen the changes in me, but you couldn’t identify it was for you. If only I could muster my courage to ask you out, perhaps the one on the altar now would be me. It was too late now. No matter how I wanted to be with you, you were wedded, someone’s husband, not mine. I had given you myself, but I could not have you in my grasp.

My heart thumped angrily in protest. Despite it demanded me to shout ‘I object’, I held my tongue. I knew you were happy with her, and I was happy for you, even if my heart wasn’t. She was your dream girl. She didn’t dye her hair like me, hers was natural. She was kind and well-mannered to begin with, she didn’t force herself. She was the match made for you, not me.

I was glad for you, honestly. I helped you to plan the wedding, didn’t I? I helped you to plan how to ask her out, how to date her, did I not? Believe me, Danny, I was happy for you.

I looked down when I felt something brushed against my leg. A bundle of roses laid by my feet, which I recognized it was in her hands not less than a few minutes ago. I picked it up, and examined the flowers before looking for its owner.

She waved her hand at me from the altar, the other one holding yours tightly, your fingers intertwined. You gave the smile I fell in love with, and kissed her lips. I waved back awkwardly. I didn’t know how to react. Should I cry, should I smile, or should I runaway? I held the locket you gave me, feeling overwhelmed as the emotions rushed into me.

Sometimes, it was funny how happy one person could make you, and how thoroughly he could break you.