The real wedding
On Sunday, I went to the old church.
The moment I stepped inside, my heart began to race.
There he was — Ethan — standing at the altar, wearing a simple barong. No mask, no wealth, no disguise.
I walked toward him, trembling. Tears blurred my vision.
“I’m sorry…” I whispered. “I don’t know how I’ll pay for all the lies I’ve told myself.”
“You don’t have to pay,” Ethan replied, holding my hand gently.
“Because of love, what’s needed is not change — but courage.”
And there, before God, the two of us embraced.
It was no longer a marriage of necessity. It was a marriage of truth and heart.
