The Wedding "Are you feeling nervous?" My dad inquires as the music begins playing, and Hannah descends the stairs, scattering flower petals. "Is it really that obvious?" I respond, anticipating the young boy who will carry the rings. "Just a tad, I suppose," he admits. Jackson, Mark's best man, and Charlie then guide their dates to their seats. "Thanks, Dad, for stating the obvious." Maya and Levi, Mark's best man, follow. "I just answered your question," he quips, offering a shrug. Kelly, Mark's cousin, is next, accompanied by another groomsman, Brandon. "Please spare me the smart-aleck remarks, Dad." Sophie and Mason are next. "You look stunning, and I have no doubt you'll achieve all your dreams. I love you," my dad says. The wedding march begins to play, and before I can think of anything else, my father is leading me down the aisle. "Don't let me trip," I whisper softly, meant only for my dad's ears. He chuckles softly. As I approach the climax of this journey, I notice
"Now, I'd like to invite the newlyweds to join us on the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife," announces the MC over the microphone. "Wise men say only fools rush in," I whisper to Mark as the music begins. "But I can't help falling in love with you," he responds with a smile. "Did you choose this song?" I inquire. "Elvis is also one of my favorites," he confesses. We continue to dance and smile as the song plays. A few dances later... "Now, I'd like to invite the bride and her dad for the father-daughter dance," the MC announces. "You're not going to start crying because of this, are you?" I tease my dad, knowing how emotional this song always makes him. "No," he sniffs. "I'll be okay." "Are you sure? Because the part that always gets you is coming up," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, I'm sure," he says, holding back his tears. But he can't hold back, and he breaks down, but it's all right because the song shifts, and it's about all dads and daug
Four hours into the seemingly endless 8-hour flight, I stirred from my slumber, and to my surprise, Mark was still peacefully asleep beside me. I took advantage of this quiet moment to catch up on what had been transpiring in the world for the past three days. For some inexplicable reason, I had deliberately avoided all forms of social media during that time. As I unlocked my phone, I discovered that I was tagged in a new I*******m post by the wedding photographer. She had posted a selection of our wedding photos, capturing moments like the big reveal and one with the entire crew, where we were all caught in fits of laughter. Scrolling down further, I came across another tagged photo, this time from Abby. It was a selfie we had snapped at the reception, and I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the fun we had. Abby was truly a wonderful person, and I hoped to maintain our friendship. To my surprise, I realized that I had several more tagged posts waiting for my attention. Mark's
MARK I nudged Alyanna gently, my excitement for the day bubbling over. "Wake up! Wake up!" I exclaimed, eager to kickstart the official beginning of our honeymoon. Alyanna groaned and muttered, "5 more minutes." I couldn't let her linger in slumber any longer. I pulled the covers back, revealing that she was soaked in sweat, her brow furrowed with discomfort. "Come on, it's time to rise and shine," I insisted, my voice brimming with anticipation. She finally relented, sitting up and yawning. "Fine, I'm up," she conceded, heading to the bathroom to change. "So, what's on the agenda today?" she inquired from the bathroom. My mind, however, wasn't on our plans for the day. I couldn't help but wonder why she was sweating so profusely. My concern lingered as she returned from the bathroom, giving me a quizzical look. I snapped back to the present. "Oh, uh, surfing," I replied, still puzzled by her condition. "Cool. I'll just grab my swimsuit, we'll get breakfast, and then head to the
I woke up with a persistent stomach ache and a throbbing headache. It seemed like it hadn't gone away from the previous day. As I slowly opened my eyes, I realized that I wasn't in my own bed or the hotel's bed; I was in a hospital bed. My hand felt something warm and comforting. I turned my head to see Mark sitting in a chair beside me, his gaze fixed on the floor, and his hand firmly holding mine. I wanted to say something, to reassure him that I was okay, but my voice eluded me. It was as if I could talk, but the words just wouldn't come out. So, I opted to squeeze his hand instead. His head snapped up, and he perched on the edge of the bed. "Alyanna, are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his words. I gave him a tentative sideways thumbs-up. "I'm going to get the doctor and let her know you're awake, alright?" I nodded, though I didn't want him to leave. I wanted his comforting presence by my side. There were many uncertainties, but one thing felt undeniably right—Mark. He woul
I learned a great deal about Mark during our time together. He shared stories about his mom, his childhood friends, and his experiences in elementary, middle, and high school. He recounted his college years and even opened up about Callie, his ex-girlfriend whom I had the chance to meet. He told me about what had transpired between them, which had left him harboring strong feelings of resentment. In turn, I shared my own life story with him. I talked about my mom, both what I remembered from my childhood and my present circumstances. I discussed my friendships and recounted my experiences in elementary, middle, and high school. College was a topic of discussion as well, though I admitted to being uncertain about whether I wanted to pursue it. Mark asked me about one of my exes, and I reasoned that he'd likely forget about her eventually. In the end, I chose to share the details of my first battle with cancer. Charlie's voice pulls me back from my thoughts about the previous night, wh
Two weeks after our arrival in Hawaii, I find myself in the emergency room at six in the evening, waiting for the attending physician to give the all-clear. My stomach is also rumbling with hunger. "Mark," I whine. He responds, "Yes?" "I'm hungry," I pout. We won't have to wait much longer, and then we can head back to the hotel and grab something to eat. Mark is currently going through the contents of the luggage he brought. "No! The first restaurant that comes to mind is where we're having our meal," I insist. "Okay, okay. Can you please be patient for just two more minutes?" He pleads. "Just two minutes, not a moment longer," he adds, setting a timer. I agree. Those two minutes felt like an eternity. My stomach was on the verge of a revolt due to the emptiness when the doctors finally arrived, ten minutes after being called. "Alyanna, I sincerely apologize for the delay," Dr. Elaine says. "Well, it's all right," I pretend to be understanding. Mark gives me a look, and I can'
"What do you mean you're going to Europe?" Mark struggles to keep pace as I practically sprint to our new gate. "We're going to Europe, not just me," I reply, briefly turning around before continuing to hurry. "You know what I meant. Now, can you slow down?" He pleads, and I do so only when we reach the gate. "Can you explain it to me now?" "We're going to Europe because it's been my lifelong dream, and I'll be starting treatment in a week. For the next six months to a year, I'll be too ill to do anything," I explain, my voice choked with emotion. I hear the loudspeaker announcing the flight to London, UK, and tears threaten to well up in my eyes. "Now, you can board that plane with me, or you can go back home and wait for me to return in a week. I'm doing this, with or without you." "Shouldn't we call your dad? He'll be expecting you home," Mark suggests, a hopeful expression on his face. "No! He'd do everything in his power to bring me home, and it would work. Besides, I don't h