Capture

Learning to Stay

I arrived before anyone else.

The sun was barely up, the church still wrapped in that soft, sleepy silence that feels almost sacred. Rows of white chairs stood empty on the lawn outside, draped in gauzy fabric and early morning light. The air smelled like dew and roses and whatever peace might feel like if it had a scent.

I didn't wait for someone to greet me or tell me where to go. I slipped through a side entrance like a spy retracing her steps—quiet, tentative, unfinished. The echo of my heels against the tile was the only sound as I wandered the halls, looking for her.

Casey. My best friend. The one I'd hurt and doubted and nearly lost.

I found her in the bridal suite.

She wasn't alone—three bridesmaids bustled around the room in matching robes, sipping coffee, touching up makeup, and double-checking curls. Laughter hummed softly from a speaker in the corner, and the whole room glowed with warmth and excitement. A morning steeped in ritual and joy.

And then I stepped in.

The laughter died. Conversations froze mid-sentence.

Casey turned to me from the mirror, curling iron in one hand, a bobby pin in her mouth. She blinked as if she wasn't sure I was real.

"Emma?" one of the bridesmaids asked warily.

I took a small step inside, nerves clenching in my stomach. "Can we have the room?"

The girls exchanged glances. One of them frowned. "We're kind of in the middle of—"

"It's okay," Casey interrupted. She pulled the pin from her mouth and set the curler down slowly. "Give us a minute."

"But—Case—"

"I said it's okay." Her tone didn't invite argument.

The girls gathered their things, reluctantly filing out with hushed murmurs and sideways glances. The door clicked shut behind them.

Now it was just the two of us.

Casey turned back to the mirror, fixing a stray curl like she hadn't just sent her entire bridal party out of the room. I stepped closer, unsure if I was allowed to speak.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice low but steady.

She blinked, surprised. "Emma," I held up my hands to stop her, because I needed her to hear me out first.

"I know I don't deserve to ask for your time right now, but I needed to see you before everything started."

She set the curling iron down and faced me fully. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep. I kept going over everything in my head. What I said. What I assumed. What I almost let break us."

Her expression didn't shift. She just watched me, guarded.

I swallowed hard. "I was wrong, Case. About you. About Ian. About everything. I let my fear drive me again, and I took it out on the person who's always stood by me."

Casey crossed her arms, but not defensively—more like she was trying to hold something in. Her voice was softer than I expected. "You hurt me."

"I know." My eyes burned. "I don't have an excuse. I just have this... deep, awful habit of running from things that matter. And you matter. You always have. You're my person."

Tears brimmed in her eyes. "You really thought I'd betray you like that?"

"I think... I didn't know what to believe. I let the past twist what was in front of me. I heard you and Ian and assumed the worst because that's what I've been trained to expect. But you didn't deserve that."