She sits with her back straight, eyes bright,

Tapping her fingers, waiting—tight.

She’s early, I’m late… and she hates that.

“You used to be on time,” she mutters,

And I smile because I know—

She hasn’t learned to slow down yet.

Her hair is wild, free like the wind,

Mine is curled, tamed, neatly pinned.

She leans in, her voice like a spark

“We’re getting married,” she announce- sure and bright,

Like she’s won the race, like she got life right.

I exhale, slow and steady, careful, measured.

She watches my face, her own expression tethered

To a hope I don’t have the heart to break—

Not yet…

I breathe in slowly and sip my wine,

Smile tight-lipped while looking up.

Her face falters, her brow folds,

“We are getting married, right?” her voice so cold.

I reach across and squeeze her hand,

She reads it in me before I speak,

Her throat tightens, her voice weak.

“What happened?” she asks me…

Like she’s bracing for a storm.

Her chest rises, fingers press—

That old familiar chest tightness, stress.

She presses her fingers to her chest,

That familiar ache beneath her vest.

I know it well—I carried it too,

The weight of fear, the panic’s cruel hue.

“I always have this,” she declares.

I just smile. “One day, that will pass too.”

She doesn’t believe me—of course, she won’t.

She clings to the things she thinks she knows.

She thinks she’ll always feel this way,

But she doesn’t know—she’ll see one day.

She asks if someone better comes along,

If love will rewrite this chapter gone wrong.

I shake my head and say “No, never.”

Her lip trembles and asks “Then how is it better?”

I want to tell her that love changes shape,

That happiness isn’t locked in fate.

That peace comes in ways she never knew,

That life is different—but just as magic and  true.

She stands up too fast, checks the time,

That old habit of running, leaving behind

What’s too heavy, too hard, too real—

She’s always moving so she won’t have to feel.

I rise too and pull her close,

Her body trembling like a ghost.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper low.

She doesn’t believe me—not yet, I know.

She still doesn’t know she’ll grow so strong

I watch her go, but I don’t chase,

No need to rush, no need to race.

I sit back down, I take a sip,

And smile softly—just a bit.

I have nowhere else to be,

And finally, that sets me free