I wasn’t shaking.
That surprised me the most.I sat in front of the bathroom mirror with a cotton pad pressed to my cheek, gently wiping away the blush that had smeared during dancing. My wedding dress hung loose where I’d unzipped it halfway, slipping off one shoulder. The room smelled like jasmine, melted tea lights, and vanilla lotion.

I wasn’t shaking.
I wasn’t crying.
I was… suspended.

For once, being alone didn’t feel lonely.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

“Tara?” Jess called. “You good, girl?”“Yeah,” I said. “Just… breathing. Taking it all in.”

A pause. I could picture her on the other side, arms crossed, eyebrows knit together as she decided whether to come in.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes,” she said. “Yell if you need help with that dress.”

I smiled at my reflection, though my eyes didn’t follow. Her footsteps faded down the hall.

It had been a beautiful wedding. Simple. Honest. We stood under the old fig tree in Jess’s backyard, the same one that had watched over birthdays, breakups, and one disastrous summer storm that left us eating cake by candlelight.