Maki's words
345 Words
Setting: Reception night, rooftop of Sathorn Pearl Palace. Lanterns drift above. Fairy lights ripple along the balustrades. The city shimmers below like a mirror of stars. Everyone is gathered as Maki takes the mic.
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Maki stepped forward, sari shimmering like starlight, her hair loose in soft waves, smile steady—though her eyes held the weight of something tender.
She glanced at the crowd, then at Ayan, who gave her the faintest nod. And finally, her gaze found Art—standing near the back, one hand behind his neck.
Beside him, Arcon stood still.
She took a breath. And began.
> “They say weddings celebrate love.
But I’ve learned they actually celebrate choice.
The choice to stay when it’s easier to run.
The choice to listen when pride wants to speak.
The choice to see someone—fully—
flaws, fears, dreams… and still say:
You. I choose to walk beside you.
> Ayan is my calm. My anchor. My north.
But before I found him, I found myself—
in the quiet, in the work, in the waiting.
And now I understand something simple:
Love doesn’t rush.
It doesn’t need to be loud to be strong.
Sometimes, the loudest love is the one
that never needed words to begin with.”
Her eyes flicked, just briefly, to Art and Arcon.
And both of them stilled—just slightly.
> “So tonight, let’s raise a glass:
To the ones who wait.
To the ones who leap.
To the ones whose love stories
haven’t been written down yet—
but are already changing the room they’re in.”
A hush settled. Not silence—something fuller than silence. The kind of stillness that holds reverence.
Then: the clink of glasses. A soft swell of strings. Applause like falling petals.
Maki stepped down. As she passed Art, she leaned in and whispered:
“The world saw you. Just now. So did he.”
And a few feet away, Arcon met Art’s eyes.
Not with fear.
Not with doubt.
But with something braver.
Something beginning.
- Writer
