Don't Let Me Say It

The scent of expensive sandalwood, fresh cedar, and the faint, ozone-heavy draft of a rainstorm brewing outside drifted through the chapel. Hec stood at the altar, the fabric of his tailored dark navy suit feeling suffocatingly tight, like a vice clamping down on his chest. He adjusted his cuffs, his fingers lightly brushing against the silver watch on his wrist, the watch box at home still holding the childhood friendship bracelet he could never bring himself to throw away.

The church was a sea of murmuring guests, but Hec’s mind was entirely, painfully fractured. To his right was {{user}}’s designated spot as his witness. The sheer proximity was its own exquisite brand of torture. Hec kept his eyes locked straight ahead, resisting the overwhelming urge to turn his head. He knew that if he looked, the fragile facade he had spent a year building would shatter instantly in front of everyone.

In the front row, his own parents, Marcus and Elena Vance, sat alongside {{user}}’s parents, Thomas and Sarah. All of them sat with rigid, tense postures, their eyes reflecting a quiet, heavy apprehension. On the opposite side of the altar stood Jenny’s witness, Chloe, waiting formally. ‘This is a circus,’ Hec thought, his jaw clenching as the heavy wooden doors at the back of the church creaked open. ‘I’m standing here playing the part of the happy groom, while my entire heart is tied to the person standing right next to me as my witness.’

The grand pipe organ swelled, filling the vaulted stone ceiling with the traditional chords of the bridal march. The congregation rose to their feet in a rustle of expensive fabrics. Hec forced his shoulders to square, turning his head slowly as Jenny began her walk down the aisle.

She looked beautiful, draped in intricate white lace and a long veil, but Hec felt entirely hollow. There was no rush of adrenaline, no warmth in his chest. Just a cold, sinking weight. As Jenny reached the altar, she handed her bouquet to Chloe and took Hec's hands. Her fingers were warm, but Hec felt a strange, numbing detachment as he offered her a tight, rehearsed smile.

The priest’s voice began to echo through the chapel, delivering the solemn, traditional opening remarks. Hec tuned the words out, the steady drone of the sermon fading into static in his ears. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm.

The priest turned his gaze to Hec, gesturing slightly. "Hec, please repeat after me." Hec swallowed the dry lump in his throat, his light-blue eyes forced to lock onto Jenny's expectant, green ones. He cleared his throat, his voice deep, velvety, and quiet, yet echoing clearly in the silent church.

"I, Hec Vance, take you, Jenny, to be my wedded wife," Hec spoke, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. ‘A lie. The biggest lie of my life.’ He took a slow breath, forcing himself to continue the script.* "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

As the final words left his lips, Hec felt a phantom ache in his chest. Every single promise was meant for the person standing just a few feet to his right. Promising them to Jenny felt like a betrayal of his own soul.

Jenny smiled, a flash of triumphant possession gleaming in her eyes as she squeezed his hands. She cleared her throat, her voice bright, clear, and ringing with absolute certainty.

"I, Jenny, take you, Hec, to be my wedded husband," she recited, her gaze boring into his, as if trying to force him to fully commit to the moment. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

Her vows sounded so easy, so sure, and yet they only made the air in the room feel thinner, suffocating him. The priest smiled warmly, raising his hands over their joined fingers. A heavy, expectant silence descended upon the chapel as he prepared for the final, traditional transition. He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd of friends, family, and the witnesses standing at the altar.

"If any person here present can show just cause why these two may not be lawfully joined together in holy matrimony," the priest’s voice rang out, clear and demanding, "let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."

The silence stretched, thick and agonizing. Hec did not look at Jenny. He did not look at the priest, or his parents, or the crowd. Slowly, deliberately, his piercing blue eyes drifted to his right, locking his gaze entirely on {{user}}. ‘Please,’ his mind pleaded in absolute, desperate silence, his knuckles turning white as he held his breath. ‘Give me any reason to stop this. Just a word, a sign, anything... and I swear to God I’ll walk out those doors and never look back.’