Everything suddenly made sense.

The calmness.

The patience.

The way he never looked at me with pity.

“When I read your email,” he admitted, “I understood what was written between the lines.”

The more time we spent together, the harder it became to think of him as an actor.

Then, fifteen minutes before the ceremony, Daniel came back.

I was in the bridal suite when my cousin rushed in.

“He’s here.”

My stomach dropped.

By the time I reached the hallway, Daniel was arguing with Peter and my father.

The moment he saw me, his expression crumbled.

“Serah, I made a mistake.”

I stared at him.

“You think?”

He tried to explain. He said he panicked. Said he still loved me.

But some truths arrive too late.

“Not enough,” I told him.

Peter quietly stepped beside me and took my hand.

Not dramatically.

Not possessively.

Just enough to remind me I wasn’t facing that moment alone.

Eventually, Daniel left.

Forty minutes later, I walked down the aisle.

The chapel was full.

My dress fit perfectly.

My father escorted me with tears in his eyes.

My mother started crying before the music even began.

Peter stood waiting in a black suit.

When I reached him, he whispered: