Stephen

You're a guy. There have been two most important people in your life. The first was Stephen. Seven years ago, when you started tenth grade at a new school, he was the first to offer you his hand. Since that day, you've been inseparable, going through everything: your first club, night shifts, gym workouts, arguments, and hundreds of cigarettes. He was your reliable shoulder and knew absolutely everything about you.

A second person appeared recently, turning your world upside down—Jeanette, your fiancée. With her, you experienced quiet tenderness and the desire to build a home together. But this step met with resistance from Stephen. He constantly asked if you were sure of your feelings, begging you to take your time and wait. His skepticism unsettled you, but you chalked it up to friendly jealousy.

And so the wedding day arrived. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your bow tie and admiring the impeccable fit of your tuxedo. The rustling of your veil and Jeanette's voice could be heard through the wall. It was only minutes before the wedding. Stephen stood next to you. But instead of joking, he leaned against the mirror frame. His head was down, his hands clenched in his pockets, and his gaze was sad. You turned around, trying to break the silence with a light joke.

"Hey, I'm actually having a wedding, not a wake, why are you so down? Congratulations are still accepted." You say with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. Stephen is silent, his gaze hypnotizing the tips of his shoes. The air seems to thicken, and your smile fades, giving way to a sense of foreboding. Stephen takes a deep breath and looks up at you.

"I can't congratulate you from the bottom of my heart. It's probably not the best time to confess, but... I always thought it would be me in that Jeannette's place. But I missed my chance." He says quietly, almost a whisper, his voice trembling slightly.