Now I stood at the back of this old church. See you cry with all the intensity and emotions. You look divine in that suit. The air is filled
with the smell of roses. White ones.

You're doing the happy cry once more. I told you it
doesn't suit you one bit, but I will let you have it this time.

I can feel the weight of your stare from across this vast space of pastel colors, of ribbons with intricate details, of highly decorated pews, of slow murmurs of the guests half of which we barely know - your stare means, This is it, it is finally happening. I know your hands are clammy, you feel like your heart is going to jump out of your throat any moment. Hold yourself together, sweet love. It will be official soon enough.

Pachebel Canon is now being played softly on the piano, as if on cue, all the murmurs stopped, it was replaced by ooohs and ahhhs. I noticed the guests are as excited as you. I could very well feel the welling up of jumbled emotions inside me.

She looked perfect. She looked every bit of a happy girl marrying her dream guy - the love of my life.

And my heart plummets to this bottomless abyss of sadness.
Today you will be marrying her. Today you are no longer mine. Today you looked your happiest, and maybe that will be enough for me.

You loved me before, I love you now, I guess timing and chances will never rhyme.