1: Married

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They all taught us how to love but never how to stop. And it hurts the most to feel unwanted by the person you want the most.

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“Please, I know you still care about me. About us. I know you still want me.” Her honey-like sweet voice could've melted any man's heart, even the ones whose hearts were like stones. But it couldn't stop him.

“It's getting late. I'll go now. Take care.” He patted her arms once and turned to leave. His name had been called twice as of now. But then again, she halted him, grabbing his wrists and making him face her.

“I love you. I have and I always will. And…” She struggled with words, her beautiful angel like face breaking into a frown, her voice breaking with her exhaustion and her resolve to stop him getting weak.

“I'll…” She hesitated but squared her shoulders. “I'll wait for you. I promise.” Her face held an assertive smile as she stood up on her toes to kiss him on his forehead. Her lips were gentle. Her kiss wasn't a farewell, it was a fierce promise.

But he knew that now their future is in dire straits. There was only sadness for the angel breaking down before him.

“It's about time.” His deep voice brought the woman to tears, knowing there was no hope anymore in stopping him now.

He left her alone, amidst the bouquets of lilies, to her own feelings of regret and remorse. He was gloomy, yes, but that wouldn't stop him. It's was his own decision to get married for their sake so now there's no coming back. Not at least at this step where he's standing today.

He walked in to the cathedral, golden light flickering all over him. Freesia and roses were tied up in strings making a whole ceiling of flowers in the unique vibrance of red and white. Blood and surrender. Peace and love. It could be anything.

He ignored the eyes on him as he walked straight towards the altar, following a scent that shouldn't be in a wedding.

He passed by the trail of white satin, draped over the stairs of red carpet all the way up to the Pope who was a bit surprised at his late arrival in his own wedding. Regardless, he continued with his words.

He whipped his head at the source of the scent. Her delicate hands held a bouquet of black roses. He slightly turned towards her, watching her appearance for the first time.

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