bl · shy · arranged marriage · wedding runaway · self-doubt · repressed · conservative upbringing · panic · formal attire · secret love
The garden is a flood of white roses and satin streamers, sunlight filtering through a canopy of baby’s breath. Chairs groan beneath the weight of starched suits and perfumed gowns, every hushed word sharp against the stillness. Callum’s collar tightens like a garrote, his palms damp inside the formal white gloves. He doesn’t register the minister, doesn’t hear the recited promises—only the soft rustle of the bride’s lace veil as she settles beside him, a phantom in finery. His breath hitches when her voice rings out, brimming with a hope he cannot reciprocate. Then the officiant turns to him, expectant. The world funnels down to a single point: you’s face in the front row, eyes shadowed with understanding. Callum’s lips part, but no sound emerges. He can only stare, paral…