Cammy stood at the altar, her hand gently resting in Ric's as the minister's voice floated through the open-air garden, but the words barely reached her ears.
Half-hidden by the trees, just beyond the reach of the wedding arch's string lights, he stood motionless, yet unmistakably present. Their eyes locked. Time seemed to stop, if only for a second.
The noise of the ocean, the murmurs of the crowd, even the fluttering in her own chest, all of it fell away.
She could see everything in his expression.
Pain. Longing. A silent goodbye.
Her throat tightened, but she couldn't look away. She didn't expect him to come. Part of her thought he wouldn't dare, or that he had finally let go. But there he was, dressed in simple slacks and a button-down, hands in his pockets, eyes locked onto hers like it was the last time they'd see each other.
"…Camilla Watson," the minister's voice cut through the haze, "do you take Ricardo Rossi to be your lawfully wedded husband…?"
