Not Yet I Do

Prologue

The first time I encountered Erik Erikson's theory about intimacy and isolation, I was nineteen years old and half-asleep in a Developmental Psychology class.

Our instructor was discussing the stages of human development while most of us were busy trying not to fail the semester.

I still remember sitting near the window, highlighting random sentences in my notebook while pretending to listen. Back then, theories felt detached from real life. They belonged in textbooks, exams, and research papers. They weren't things that could reach into your chest and change the way you understood your own story.

“Intimacy versus Isolation,” our instructor had said while writing the words on the board. “At some point in adulthood, a person must decide whether they are willing to be vulnerable enough to love. If nag-fail siya, they risk isolation.”

At twenty, I thought that sounded dramatic.

At thirty-two, I realized it wasn't dramatic enough.

The wedding venue smelled like fresh flowers and expensive perfume.

It was a Friday afternoon in September, and I was standing inside a cathedral fixing a bride's veil while simultaneously answering three supplier calls and reminding a photographer not to block the aisle during the procession.

“Miss Jade, okay na po ba?” One of the coordinators asked nervously.

I glanced around the church and nodded. “Okay na. Tell the violinist to start in five minutes.”

The coordinator hurried away then.

I adjusted the bride's veil one final time and stepped back.

She looked beautiful.

All brides do.

Not because of the makeup.

Not because of the gown.

But because there is something about being loved that changes a person's face.

The bride stared at her reflection in a handheld mirror and suddenly began crying.

I just sighed. Not because I was annoyed. But because I had predicted it twenty minutes earlier.

I handed her a tissue.

“Waterproof mascara ba 'to?” She asked. She then laughed through her tears.

“Yes,” I replied. “Cry all you want.”

Her mother immediately started crying too.

Then one of the bridesmaids joined.

And within seconds, half the room looked emotionally unstable.

Typical. Weddings have a strange effect on people.

After making sure everyone was still functional, I quietly stepped outside the bridal suite and checked my schedule.

Everything was running on time.

Which immediately made me suspicious.

No wedding runs perfectly.

It's one of the fundamental laws of the universe. Something always happens.

And right on cue, the church lights suddenly flickered.

I looked up.

Once.

Twice.

Then everything went dark.

A collective gasp just echoed through the cathedral. Several guests started murmuring. One coordinator looked seconds away from a panic attack.

I closed my eyes briefly.