What if second chances come a second time?
Long ago, Hannah and Jonah called it quits. Long ago, Hannah stopped trying to make things work, and Jonah let her go. Long ago, Jonah mailed back all of Hannah's stuff from his apartment, and Hannah blocke...
Despite the smile on my face, it's a tearful affair.
In the middle of lockdown, we couldn't exactly plan a big ceremony. We applied for a marriage license—and would've been fine to have a quick courthouse wedding—but his father wished to witness this moment. Even though he can only do it from the comfort of his hospital room, hundreds of miles away, and through a screen.
He said he didn't want to miss this special moment in his only son's life. He's missed out a lot. Who was I to deny his wish?
So here I am, walking down the aisle in an empty church. Just me, in an old off-white dress I managed to find in my suitcase; him in black and white ensemble he wore to a dinner last month; the officiant, patiently standing at the altar and keeping a safe distance from us both.
I do wish my parents were here. My brothers, my sister. I wish my dad were here to hold me steady.
Tears brim my eyes, and I blink them away before I could stumble. I can't afford to fall on my face when the cameras are recording, when my family is watching through the screen across the country.
It feels like years, but I finally make it to the altar. He takes my hand and helps me up so that I'm standing right in front of him. I can't see his reassuring smile under the white mask he's wearing on his face, and I'm hit with a heavy pang of loneliness. This is my wedding day, and I should be elated beyond compare.
As if sensing my distress, his warm hands gently squeeze my clammy ones. I look up, and though I still can't see his smile, I can see the encouragement in his eyes.
Safe. Steady. Calm.
I squeeze back.
I listen to the officiant's welcoming speech, keeping my eyes firmly locked on my husband-to-be's. I try my best to keep my gaze straight as we exchange our vows. My hands don't shake when I put the ring on his finger. When he reaches up to take off the mask on my face, a bright smile is what greets his back.
The officiant's voice echoes in the empty church. It drones on, flat and almost robotic. "... And so, in my presence and in the presence of your family and friends, you have exchanged your vows. Marking a union between two individuals, symbolized by the exchanging of rings—you have declared a life of eternal love and friendship..."
I don't miss the glistening of tears in his own eyes. I know he wants his family to be here too. But he and I—we only have each other right now.
"We'll be okay," he mouths, now that the mask is no longer obscuring his face.
I mouth back, "I know."
"... Therefore, with the blessings of God..."
It isn't until this very moment, as the officiant reads the end of his script with a little bit of inflection in his voice, that everything truly sinks in.
"... it is my pleasure to now pronounce you..."
I just married my best friend.
"... Mr. and Mrs. Archer."
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