Chapter Twenty-One - The Rain on Our Wedding Day

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The Rain on Our Wedding Day

IT WASN’T SUPPOSED to rain.

Not according to the forecast.
Not according to the backup plan.
Not according to her, because she manifested sunshine every morning that week like it was her full-time job.

But the clouds didn’t care.
They rolled in slow and moody, like the sky had its own version of romance to tell.

And by the time the first guests sat down, the wind had started whispering.

I saw her before she saw me.

Through the glass.
Holding her bouquet like a weapon.
Hair pinned. Eyes wide. Lips parted like she was about to say fuck.

Someone offered her an umbrella.
She waved it off.

Of course she did.

Because she didn’t wait all this time to show up covered.
She came to be seen.

And holy God, was she ever.

The officiant looked nervous.
My mom looked panicked.
The photographer looked like they were about to cry over wet gear.

And then, the rain started.

Soft at first.
Like the sky was testing us.
Then louder. Steadier.
Soaking shoulders. Turning chairs to puddles. Turning curls to chaos.

And then, there she was.

Walking barefoot now.
Shoes off. Dress lifted slightly.
Laughing.

Laughing.

Like she had just decided, “Screw it. If we’re gonna do this, we’re doing it wet.”

When she reached me, she was already drenched.

I was shaking.
Not from the weather.
From her.

And right there, in front of everyone, mud, wind, and thunder rolling in the background like a movie soundtrack, we got married.

No music.
No microphones.
Just two soaked idiots promising forever with their foreheads touching and rain dripping down their noses.

She whispered, “Best. Plot twist. Ever.”

And I whispered back, “I do.”

They say rain on your wedding day is good luck.

But this wasn’t luck.

This was a storm, and two people choosing not to run from it.