Bells ring through the air as the sunlight softly kisses an ornate building. Inside, crowds of family, friends, and everyone in between fill the hall, their hushed voices weaving into a warm, expectant murmur.
In separate dressing rooms, two people take a deep breath in unison, the weight of the moment pressing gently against their ribs. One smooths the front of a pressed jacket, fingertips tracing the cool fabric, willing trembling hands to be still. The other adjusts a delicate veil, feeling the soft lace brush their cheek, heart thudding in the quiet.
The bells chime once more, echoing through the building. After this moment, everything will change.
The figure in their suit steps into place as a march begins to play. A moment later, the figure in the veil begins their slow walk, every step matching the measured notes. Everything disappears as they lock eyes, the nerves suddenly fleeing as the whole world melts away.
The ceremony takes place, sealed with a kiss. Happiness fills the room, mingling with the clink of glasses and the low hum of celebration, a soft buzz of positivity wrapping everyone in a warm embrace.
...
Years later, the pitterpatter of young feet roam a well-lived home, mingling with the rich scent of gumbo simmering on the stove. Two people dance around each other in a choreographed display of cooking and cleaning. One touches softly on the other’s swollen belly, a reminder of another pair of tiny feet soon to join their world. A long-awaited, gentle brush on the lips seals the warmth they still share, quiet but steady.
From the corner, a soft giggle breaks the rhythm. The warmth of happiness lingers still, though softened by the quiet weariness settled between the couple.
...
Ten years ago, this lovely couple became a family. Tonight, they wish to take the family out of the house to celebrate -- something different from the routine of dishes, homework, and quiet sighs. The car hums with the noise of restless children, and the couple exchanges a glance, a flicker of tiredness hidden behind forced smiles.
The night is full of hope and nostalgia, but beneath the laughter, the quiet spaces between words stretch longer than before.
The restaurant buzzes with the chatter of other diners, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of background music. The couple sits across from each other, their hands briefly touching before retreating, as if unsure of each other’s presence.
Midway through, a phone buzzes sharply against the table. An important work call that can’t be ignored. The owner excuses themselves, leaving the other to care for the hungry children.
Soon after, the kids need escorting to the bathroom, the parent softly gliding through the restaurant, kids in tow. Upon returning, they offer their partner a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach their eyes.
Conversations feels fragmented, slipping through cracks neither wants to face. Words that once flowed freely now stumble and falter. They hold on to quiet worries and feelings of loss until the evening ends.
The kids are put to bed. The couple sits quietly on the couch together, attempting connection on such an important night. Instead, voices begin to rise as words long unsaid pass back and forth.
...
A suitcase rests half-full on the worn quilt, each folded shirt laid down with careful detachment. One person sits on the edge of the bed, hands clasped loosely in their lap. They don’t look up when the zipper closes, but a tear slowly slips down, warm against their skin. No words are spoken as the suitcase is lifted. The door shuts, as both of them exhale in unison, defeated sighs behind the barrier.
Meanwhile, from the stairs, small fingers curl around the banister. The voices are soft, but the words don’t make sense:
"Time apart…better for everyone…it’s not your fault."
The phrases roll around in their little head, looking for any shape that feels solid. A door clicks, and a sad sigh drifts through the house that used to feel warm.
In another room, photos are scattered across the bed as a teenager lifts one, studying the smiling faces frozen in time. They’d heard this happened to other families but never thought it would happen to theirs. Never saw the signs until now, when everything has come apart. With their whole world crashing down upon their shoulders and a slow, aching breath, they tear the picture in half.
What really happens in marriage? Why do most of them look like this? Where does it all go wrong?
