#fouthpost

From a secluded corner, I watched as the ceremony unfolded. A symphony of laughter and tears played in the background, a soundtrack to a love story I once believed would be ours. The bride, a vision in white, radiated happiness. Her eyes, sparkling with joy, were fixed on the groom, a man who had stolen the heart I thought I owned.

A bitter taste lingered on my tongue. The scent of jasmine, my favorite, carried on the wind, a cruel reminder of shared moments, of promises whispered in the dead of night. I remembered a time when our dreams intertwined like the petals of a rose, inseparable and full of hope.

Now, as I watched him slip the ring on her finger, a cold dread seeped into my bones. This was supposed to be us, standing at the altar, our hands clasped, our hearts beating as one. But life had a cruel way of rewriting scripts, and here I was, a ghost in the margins of their fairy tale.

The officiant’s voice, carrying words of love and commitment, pierced through the haze of my thoughts. With each passing moment, the knot in my chest tightened. I was a prisoner of the past, trapped in a year that refused to let go. A year filled with laughter, dreams, and the unspoken promise of forever.

As they shared their vows, a lifetime of what-ifs played out in my mind. What if I had been braver? What if I had fought harder? But these were questions without answers, echoes in an empty room.

The final kiss, a seal of their union, felt like a dagger to my heart. I turned away, unable to bear the pain any longer. The world outside the venue seemed to blur, a reflection of the chaos within.

As I walked away, the sound of their laughter carried on the wind. It was a beautiful sound, a testament to love. But for me, it was a haunting melody, a reminder of a love lost, a life unlived.