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It's My Wedding, And...

A frame narrative, well, I couldn't repeat the first paragraph I ran out of words, but the beginning is the end.

By The Invisible WriterPublished 2 years ago • 2 min read
Top Story - April 2025
It's My Wedding, And...
Photo by Dennis Ottink on Unsplash

The car's window slid down under the weight of my finger, pressing on the button mounted in the door. Turning, I looked at their faces, already free of everything I was leaving behind.

Five minutes before.

Birds chirped beautiful songs all around us. Above our heads, a blue canvas stretched between willowy white clouds. Clearing throats and nervous shuffling brought my attention back to where I was.

I had taken too long to answer. Looking at our guests, I take in a slow breath.

My parents smile from the first row. Her parents smile, too. Our friends and family look on with hopeful eyes.

Two feet from me, my beautiful bride, the woman who stole my heart the first time she stumbled into my life, stands waiting for me to pledge my love.

Her blue eyes, which perfectly match the shade of blue in the summer sky, glance nervously from my brown ones to the weathered grey of the minister's.

My chest tightens as I recall the moments that led us to this point where our happily ever after is ready to be written on the last page of our story.

Pushing away the vows I'd spent weeks writing, I open my suddenly dry mouth to say a whole new set of ones.

"Claire." Her eyes search mine, and I can see how nervous she is. My hand reaches out to comfort her before I remember and pull it back again.

"Claire, you changed my life. I never knew you could need someone just to breathe before I met you.” Her lips turn up in a smile that's still so electric to me.

“I never thought I could want forever. But then, you made forever my only thought." Reaching out again, I take her hand this time.

“You're it for me, and until last night I thought I was for you.” Concern registers in the lines that appear between her eyes.

“I know, Claire. You didn’t end the call after we talked. I listened until your battery died.” Claire shakes her head and glances toward the audience in a move only I catch, and I know who she's looking for.

“The talking, the not talking, everything.” Her step-sister gets up from her chair and turns to leave.

“Where you going, Sherri Berry?” Her footsteps stop, but she doesn't look back “You’re going to want to hear this, baby girl.” Her shoulders move down an inch, and I see the moment she resigns herself to stay. Beside me, Claire finds her voice.

“Peter, no.” The plea wrecks me. I still love her, but I can't stop now.

“I love you, Claire Bear." Her wet eyes beg me not to say more. "The old saying goes, if you love something, set it free. But you’re not coming back to me.” Leaning forward, I kiss Claire's cheek before walking away. Passing Sherri, I say in a voice only she can hear.

“Take care of her.”

The next minute, I'm getting in the car.

Microfiction

About the Creator

The Invisible Writer

Nothing is more beautiful than love

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    Written by The Invisible Writer