Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Pardon the style. A chunk of this can be attributed to real life, unfortunately and it was just begging to be let out. Also, pardon the earlier posting. I have no idea WTF happened.

You walked down the aisle, accompanied by both your mom and dad.

At the time, it was like a perfect mix of nothing and everything that streamed through my head. I could not, for the life of me, remember what the look on your face meant, or if your mom pulled through as we predicted and were in fact bawling her eyes out—wait, no. That was MY mother. But you know how she can get. She all but claimed you as her second daughter.

I do remember seeing the red carpet, the bouquet you had in hand, and the dress—your dress, and the veil—which was a point of contention in the midst of wedding preparations since you didn't want to be caught dead in one. I can't even begin to understand why, but you mentioned something about it not going well with some style or whatever.

I recall the melodious hum that starts just as soon as the doors open for you to take your first step forward.

I think I captured a tiny hint of surprise on your face then. Only then, I think.

A voice starts to sing. Then it all fades into a blur once again.

I sense a few pair of eyes directed my way. I hope that was all just my paranoia acting out.

Because I cannot and would not want to talk about this event with anyone, any time soon.

You're about nearly halfway down the aisle when other voices join in for the chorus.

You pause and turn to look up towards the loft where the choir is situated.

That's right. I made it happen. And since you claimed that you and that groom of yours—I know his name, dammit—do not have a song… Well consider this my wedding gift, I'm lending you guys ours.

Oh does that sound like something from a movie? Well so what. Judging by the look on your face, you didn't expect a group of people to sing it as you walked down the aisle.

And this is when a sort of focus jars me back into consciousness.

You look at me, and I remember sending you a wink, just as a grin manages its way to my lips.

Again, the choir was my idea. All a cappella, just how you like it.

You start walking once again, and I was prepared to zone back out as well, but to my eternal surprise, and everyone else's I suppose, you stop in front of me.

You stopped, pulled away from your parents' arms and wrapped yours around my neck.

In that moment, I forgot about my aversion to hugging, to touching, to physical displays of affection.

You've always been the exception.

I forgot about the pain in my feet from new shoes I've yet to break in, the gnawing hunger that has been plaguing me since you entrusted me to help you out on your special day, including having to wake up before the crack of freakin' dawn because a part of you was freaking out.

You entrusted me to look after you despite the weird sense of "something" that has surrounded us ever since you mentioned "him."

And as your arms were wrapped around me, so did mine unconsciously lift up and I returned the hug. Not too tight, not loose or casual…But as I deemed it fit to squeeze you gently before letting you go, I whispered, "This is as it should be." I'm not sure but perhaps those words were more for me.

When you whispered "I love you" in reply, and I couldn't even say it back, I knew this was the right thing to do.

He could fight for you wherein I couldn't—wouldn't.

Later on, I will hike up the damn long ends of this bloody dress, take advantage of the open bar, give a speech about how I'm so happy for the two of you (and I swear a part of me is), throw these high heels off and eat like there's no tomorrow. I'll wave goodbye with a smile, along with everyone else, as you exit the reception with your new husband.

And so it will end.

And yours has just begun.

Funny thing is, it hasn't happened yet, and it wasn't even really a dream that seems to foretell of things to come.

Perhaps it is what I dream of and hope for you.

Can I let go now?