The Quiet,Rushed wedding
1083 Words
Kaiden gave Amelia two weeks.
Not because he thought she needed permission, or because he doubted her resolve, but because he understood that some decisions, even when necessary, needed space to settle into the bones. He said it plainly, standing in his office with that calm certainty that never wavered.
“Two weeks,” he had said. “To adjust. To process. To decide if you want to walk into this without resentment.”
Amelia had nodded then, pretending she was braver than she felt.
Those two weeks passed in a strange blur. Her days were slower now, her body insisting on rest even when her mind refused to slow down. She slept more than usual, woke up tired anyway, craved things at odd hours and cried once because she couldn’t find a specific pair of socks she liked. She told herself it was just hormones. She told herself she was fine. And somewhere between denial and acceptance, she began to imagine the wedding not as an ending but as a beginning she could survive.
It was not going to be a ceremony.
They had agreed on that early. No guests. No announcements. No photographers. No public anything. Just the civil affairs bureau, signatures, documentation, and a quiet legal bond that changed everything while looking like nothing at all.
On the morning of the wedding, Amelia woke up groggy and heavy, her body refusing to cooperate. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, blinking slowly, trying to remember why today felt important. Then it hit her.
She groaned and rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow. “Of course,” she muttered. “Of all days.”
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Kaiden.
She let it buzz for a moment before answering. “Hello.”
“You need to be there by two,” he said, voice crisp and unhurried. “I am reminding you because I know how you are with time.”
She squinted at the clock. “I am an artist. Time is a suggestion.”
“It is a requirement today,” he replied calmly.
“I’m awake,” she lied.
There was a pause. “Amelia.”
“I’m getting up,” she said quickly. “Relax. I won’t ditch my own wedding.”
“That is reassuring,” he said dryly.
She smiled despite herself and ended the call, then lay back down for another five minutes that turned into fifteen. By the time she finally dragged herself into the bathroom, she felt like she had run a marathon in her sleep. She dressed simply. A light dress. Flat shoes. No makeup beyond lip balm. She looked like she was going grocery shopping, not getting married.
She arrived late.
Twenty three minutes late.
Kaiden was already there, standing near the entrance, suit immaculate, posture straight, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He looked at his watch when he saw her, then looked at her face, pale and tense and apologetic.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I know,” she said softly, bracing herself.
He studied her for a moment, then nodded once. “Come. Let’s go in.”
No lecture. No irritation. Just that. She felt her shoulders loosen a fraction.
Inside, the building was bland and bureaucratic, beige walls and plastic chairs and the faint smell of disinfectant. Amelia’s nerves crept back in full force. Her foot tapped uncontrollably as they waited, fingers twisting together in her lap.
Kaiden noticed.
He shifted closer, not touching her, but close enough that she felt anchored. “You are doing fine,” he said quietly.
She swallowed. “I feel like I’m about to pass out.”
“You won’t,” he replied. “But if you do, I will catch you.”
She glanced at him, startled, then laughed weakly. “That’s not comforting.”
“It is practical,” he said.
They were called forward. Papers were presented. Names were confirmed. Amelia’s hand shook as she signed, her signature slightly messier than usual. Kaiden signed after her, steady and precise.
At some point, while they were waiting for a stamp, Amelia’s stomach growled loudly.
She froze. “I’m sorry.”
Kaiden raised an eyebrow. “Did you eat.”
“No.”
“You were supposed to eat.”
“I didn’t feel like it,” she muttered. “I want ice cream.”
Now.
He stared at her. “After.”
She pouted. “Now.”
“Amelia.”
She crossed her arms. “If I don’t get ice cream I might cry.”
A clerk nearby smiled at them. “You two are cute,” she said. “Nervous couples always are.”
Amelia snorted. “He’s not cute. He’s grumpy.”
Kaiden looked at the clerk. “I am not grumpy.”
“Yes you are,” Amelia said immediately. “You wake up grumpy. You breathe grumpy.”
The clerk laughed. “You balance each other.”
Kaiden sighed, rubbing his temple. “This is going to be a long marriage.”
They left the building an hour later as husband and wife, with no music and no applause and no witnesses beyond strangers who would forget them by tomorrow. Amelia felt strangely light and heavy at the same time.
She tugged at Kaiden’s sleeve. “Ice cream.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Five minutes.”
She beamed.
They stood in line at a small shop nearby, Amelia leaning against the counter, humming to herself, pointing at flavors with childish enthusiasm. Kaiden ordered without complaint, though his jaw tightened when she asked for two scoops and extra toppings.
“You are enjoying this,” he said as they waited.
“I’m coping,” she corrected.
They were congratulated again. Amelia thanked everyone cheerfully, joking about marrying a man who barely smiled. Kaiden accepted the comments with stiff politeness, though Amelia caught the faintest curve of his lips when she wasn’t looking directly at him.
By the time they left, the sun was dipping low, the day stretched thin and full. Amelia felt exhausted, emotional, and strangely calm.
As they walked to the car, she glanced at Kaiden. “We did it.”
“Yes,” he said. “We did.”
She smiled to herself, resting a hand on her stomach. Tension still lingered. Fear still waited. But for now, there was also something else.
Quiet. Support. And the knowledge that she was not alone.
- Writer
