If someone had asked you to describe how you wanted your wedding day to go, you would tell them those three words, without hesitation. It was almost second nature at this point, as the day grew nearer. Those three words so daunting, so much to live up to—and yet you repeated them like a mantra, each and every time. Spoken aloud to assure yourself, to allow it to manifest into your reality. Believing in them, if nothing else.
Picturesque. Perfect. Unforgettable.
A week before the special day, you were struggling more than you had in the past few months. There was something gnawing at you, a dark feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t place it, nor were you spared any time to ponder on it. Busied with final touches leading up to the big date on your calendar—decorated with small hearts and glittery letters—you barely had any time for yourself. When you did have a few moments of quiet—most times, in the privacy of a restroom or the few minutes you had before passing out in your own bed from exhaustion—you simply regarded the feeling in your gut as nerves. You were sure your partner was feeling the same, though, you refrained from asking—not wanting to worry them in the few moments of peace the two of you had alone.
It was just jitters, you told yourself. It’s gonna be fine.
However, the day before the wedding, the feeling had seemingly come to a peak. The aching in your gut, once numbed with enough distractions or pain medications, was now spreading to the rest of your body.
You woke up that morning shaking, every limb lit up like a live wire. Your hands trembled as you rubbed away the stinging in your eyes. Just a bad dream, you assumed. Though, try as you might, you couldn’t recall any defining details. The last thing you could remember was the iciness you felt. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over your sleeping form, the cool liquid penetrating your bones and chilling you from the inside.
In the dim light of the room—the sun just barely peaking over the horizon—you looked down at your night clothes. There was nothing out of place, no dampness to be found on you or the bedding. Still, you couldn’t shake away the pure ice running through your veins. Your eyes wandered over to the form laying beside you, peacefully unaware of your gaze. The thoughts that had once filled your anxious mind disappeared for a moment, as you observed how the rising sun touched your lover’s skin. How the warm hues highlighted their lax figure; Defining their imperfections, whilst bathing them in a picturesque light. The gleam on their skin beckoned you forth, to seek comfort in their warmth. Yet, you held back from burrowing yourself into the safety of their arms. Guilt forbid you from sinking into them, from allowing yourself to disturb their calm with your inner turmoil. You couldn’t understand why your body was telling you to pull away, physically denying you of someone you had always found solace in.
Your mind whirling with incomplete—yet, just as suffocating—thoughts, you accepted that falling back asleep was no longer an option. So, you rose from bed to wash up, mentally planning out your morning as you made your way to the bathroom. Before closing the door, you spared one last glance back at your partner. Still deep in slumber, you could now see a small crease in their brow, paired with slightly downturned lips. Your heart aches in your chest, as you watch their hand unconsciously reach towards your side of the bed. The band adorning their finger glitters in the light, sending you a nonverbal promise. A small smile graces your face as you enter the shower, the feeling in your gut stagnant for just a moment—but still ever-present.
