A hush hangs in the air where pale petals rest beneath glowing panes. Not quite dreamlike, yet somehow beyond ordinary sight, it stands quiet, caught between stillness and grace.
Front row, bride's side, that's where I am, wearing the sage green dress Ella picked out for every bridesmaid. Beside me sits her cousin, quietly pressing tissues to her face. Ahead, a man sniffs hard, tears rolling down his cheeks before any music plays. Quiet sobs ripple through the pews like wind through leaves.
Yet I do not cry. Not now. Just here… frozen. Taking air. Seeing.
