The morning of the wedding arrived quietly, almost reverently, as if the mansion itself understood the weight of the day.
Sunlight spilled across the corridors, touching walls that had once held whispered arguments, secret glances, restrained longing. Today, those same walls were dressed in white and gold, flowers breathing life into corners that had known too much silence.
Jay stood before the mirror, surrounded by soft rustling fabric and hushed voices. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, glowing, real. No heaviness sat on her chest. No second thoughts tugged at her heart. Only a steady warmth, a certainty that felt like finally exhaling after years of holding her breath.
Downstairs, Keifer adjusted his cufflinks for the third time, hands betraying his nerves. His father watched him with a knowing smile but said nothing. There was pride there, yes—but more than that, relief. The kind that comes when a son finally chooses happiness over duty.
When the music began, conversation faded into silence.
Keifer lifted his head—and the world narrowed.
Jay appeared at the top of the staircase, framed by light, every step measured yet effortless. She wasn't walking toward a future she feared. She was walking toward something she had already lived, already felt, already trusted.
His chest tightened painfully.
Each step she took erased memories of restraint, of pretending not to care, of nights spent wondering what if. She was close now—close enough that he could see the slight tremble in her fingers, the quiet strength in her smile.
When she reached him, neither spoke. They didn't need to.
Their hands found each other naturally, like they always had.
The ceremony unfolded gently. Words of union, promises of commitment, blessings spoken softly—but Jay and Keifer existed in their own space, stealing glances, sharing small smiles, grounding each other with the simplest touch.
Keifer's thumb brushed against her knuckles, slow and reassuring.
Jay leaned closer, breathing him in, steadying herself in his presence.
When it was time to speak, Keifer didn't rehearse. He didn't grandstand. He just told the truth.
"I didn't expect life to lead me here," he said, voice calm but full. "But now that I am… I know this is where I belong. With you."
Jay's throat tightened, but she smiled through it. When her turn came, her voice was soft, unwavering.
"You've always been the place I return to," she said. "Even when I didn't know it yet."
The priest's final words settled like a blessing over them.
"You may kiss your bride."
Keifer didn't rush it.
He cupped her face gently, as if memorizing the moment, and kissed her—slow, certain, intimate in a way that made the rest of the world fade. Applause erupted around them, but Jay only smiled against him, heart full, eyes closed.
They walked back down the aisle together, shoulders brushing, fingers intertwined, laughter slipping free now that there was nothing left to hide.
At the reception, the mansion transformed completely.
Music echoed through open halls. Guests laughed openly. Even the parents—once cautious, once observant—moved freely, smiles unguarded. It felt less like a formal celebration and more like a home finally at peace.
Keifer found Jay later on the terrace, the night air cool against the warmth still lingering in her skin.
"You disappeared," he said quietly, stepping closer.
"I needed a second," she admitted, looking at him. "To realize it's real."
He smiled softly, brushing her hair back. "It is."
They stood there for a while, no words, just presence. The stars overhead felt closer somehow, the world gentler.
Inside, the mansion glowed—no longer a place of expectation or performance, but a witness to something earned, something chosen.
Jay rested her head against Keifer's shoulder.
And for the first time, neither felt like they were waiting for life to begin.
It already had.