Rachel stood at the altar, staring at Henry, her fiancé—the man she was moments away from marrying. But inside, she felt nothing. No butterflies. No excitement. Only a heavy, gnawing emptiness.
It was as if she were looking through him, not at him. Her ears buzzed with a strange, hollow ringing, drowning out the murmurs, the music, the presence of family and friends.
Everything around her seemed blurred and unreal, like a dream she couldn’t wake up from.
Then, cutting through the fog, she heard her name.
“Rachel!”
The voice was urgent.
“Rachel!”
It was Henry, eyes filled with concern. She blinked, struggling to focus on his face.
Rachel shook her head slightly, disoriented. “What?” Her voice sounded distant, even to herself.
“The priest is asking you something,” Henry said, his brows furrowed.
Rachel turned toward the priest, who waited patiently. “Rachel, do you agree to marry Henry?”
The question echoed, each word pounding like a drumbeat inside her skull. Everything inside her screamed “No.” But her lips moved before her heart could stop them.
“Y-yes, I agree,” she whispered.
The words felt like someone else’s. Heavy. Hollow.
She had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Two Months Earlier…
Rachel was on her way to meet the wedding planner Henry had insisted on hiring—“Max is the best in town,” he’d said. But Rachel hadn’t felt great about it. Not because Max was a man, but because this whole wedding felt more like a checklist than a celebration.
She entered the café and, while scanning the room, accidentally bumped into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she gasped, stepping back.
The man turned around—and her heart skipped. “Max?” she breathed, eyes wide.
“Rachel?” he said with the same shock, and then his face broke into a smile. “No way!”
They hugged. Warmth rushed over her like sunlight.
“I’m here to meet the wedding planner,” she said, still dazed.
“I am the wedding planner,” he said with a chuckle.
That day, they talked for three hours—about flowers and venues, but mostly about everything else. About who they’d become, and how strange and wonderful it was to see each other again. It felt like no time had passed since school, when Rachel had quietly loved Max and never dared to say a word.
But now… here he was. And something inside her stirred.
In the weeks that followed, their bond deepened.
At the flower shop, when Henry rushed to choose white roses and leave for work, Max quietly reminded her, “Your favorite flowers are peonies.”
He remembered.
Later that day, they walked to the old hill they used to visit. They sat on the big rock, sipping coffee, the sunset washing them in gold.
“Do you love him?” Max asked gently.
Rachel looked down. “I don’t believe in love,” she whispered.
But Max wouldn’t let her hide. “You do. You always did. You just learned not to trust it.”
Then, he told her the truth—that he had loved her, back then. That he still did.
Rachel kissed him. Soft and desperate. And then, just as quickly, she pulled away.
“I’m getting married,” she said, her voice shaking.
“It’s not too late to call it off.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, backing away. “We can’t do this. We shouldn’t even see each other anymore.”
And she left.
She buried herself in wedding plans. She forced herself to forget the kiss, the hill, the warmth of Max’s gaze.
But now, standing at the altar, nothing felt right.
The priest repeated his question.
“Rachel, do you agree to marry Henry?”
She forced a “Yes” past her lips.
And just then, the church doors burst open.
Max.
Breathless. Eyes wide. Voice firm.
“Stop! I object to this marriage!”
Gasps rippled through the room.
The priest blinked. “I haven’t asked that question yet.”
Rachel’s heart thundered in her chest.
“Why?” she asked, barely a whisper.
“Because you deserve to be happy,” Max said, walking toward her.
Henry stepped forward. “Rachel, tell him you’re happy. Tell him this is what you want.”
Rachel opened her mouth—but the words wouldn’t come.
Max stood tall. “I love you, Rachel. I loved you then. I love you now. And I know you love me too.”
Her breath caught. Her whole body trembled.
Henry’s voice softened. “Rachel…?”
She looked at him, at the man she was supposed to spend forever with. Then at Max, the man who saw her, truly saw her.
And for the first time in her life, she let go of everyone else’s expectations.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Henry. “I can’t.”
She ran down the aisle, into Max’s arms, and kissed him as if she’d waited a lifetime.
