The Mirror Before Her

Chapter Three: The Day the Sky Forgot the Sun

They say the moments before your wedding are supposed to feel magical—nervous laughter, trembling hands, a heart full of love, and a future waiting at the end of the aisle.

But for me, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

I stood by the altar, adjusting the cuffs of my suit, wiping my palms against my trousers like it would stop the storm inside me. People were talking and laughing, and music softly played. But I didn’t hear any of it.

I was listening to her.

Waiting for the sound of her footsteps, the soft rustle of her dress, the voice that always said my name like it was something worth believing in.

Selene.

We weren’t perfect. God, we were far from it. But we tried. We built something. Slowly. Carefully. Like two people trying to fix what was broken inside them without breaking each other in the process.

She knew about the dreams. She knew she wasn’t the woman in white. And she still stayed.

“I can be real, Elián,” she once said. “Even if I’m not a fantasy.”

And she was. Real. Messy. Beautiful in ways that weren’t easy. She kissed me with questions. Held me with doubt. But she tried. And I tried.

And today, I was going to try forever.

An hour passed. Then two.

Someone whispered something to someone. I heard my name being called.

“There’s been an accident,” her cousin said. “On the way here.”

I froze.

The world turned to static. My heart stopped moving in my chest.

“Where?” I asked, my voice already cracking. “Where is she?”

“St. Luke’s… Quezon City. They brought her there.”

I ran.

I don’t remember how I got there. The car. The traffic. My hands shaking on the steering wheel. All of it blurred.

What I do remember is bursting into the emergency room, still wearing the suit I was supposed to marry her in. The scent of alcohol and blood filled my lungs. My legs gave out when I saw her name on the list at the desk.

“Where is she?” I gasped.

“Room 208. But—” the nurse started to say something.

I didn’t wait.

I found her.

She was so still.

Machines surrounded her like metal vultures, beeping in erratic rhythms that didn’t match the beat of my breaking heart. Her face was pale, lips split slightly like she was about to whisper something.

“Selene…” I choked, falling to my knees beside her bed.

I reached for her hand. Cold. Too cold.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m here now." Please… stay.”

The monitor let out a sharp, flat scream. A line of silence stretched across the screen.

“No, no, no—Selene, please—” I sobbed. “You can’t leave me like this.” You promised. We were supposed to—God, we were so close.”

The doctors came. Voices rose. Hands pulled me back. But I fought them.

“I didn’t get to say it,” I said, tears blurring everything.

“I didn’t get to tell you my vows.”

So I said them.

Right there in the sterile room that smelled like endings.

“Selene… I know I’ve been distant. I know I loved you with one hand still reaching for someone I hadn’t met. But you… you showed up. You stayed. You loved the broken version of me and God—I was trying to be whole for you.

I vow… I vow that I am going to try every day to choose you. Not the dream. Not the ghost. You.

I was going to grow old with you. We were supposed to argue about groceries and laugh at stupid movies and hold each other on stormy nights.

We were so close.

Please… wake up. Let me have one more day. One more chance.”

But she never moved.

She never came back.

And I was left holding her hand like it was still tethered to the future we never got to live in.

They let me stay with her body for a while. Long enough for the silence to settle in my bones.

When I finally stood to leave, I looked at her one last time.

And whispered, “I’m sorry I met you while still dreaming of someone else.”

Then I walked out into a world that kept spinning, even though mine had stopped.

Because this wasn’t the story I thought I was living.

And she wasn’t the woman I thought was the ending.

But grief has a way of sharpening memory.

And it was only after losing Selene… that I finally saw her.

The girl from my dream.

The one I hadn’t met yet.

Mara.

And this time, the ache wasn’t a question.

It was a name.