World is a small place

"Do you, Enrique Bianchi, take Avel Flores as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do,"

"Do you, Avel Flores take Enrique Bianchi as your lawfully wedded husband?"

I closed my eyes. A deep sigh reverberated through my chest as I held back my tears. What was the point now? The strong facade I wore for years now was slowly slipping.

"I do,"

It was an instant wedding in the late afternoon after two days after my arrival. The area faced the breathtaking sunset. At the end of each seated aisle, jasmine-scented candles hung from naked tree branches. Spread down the aisle were white leaves, as far as the eyes could see, slightly moist so they wouldn’t crack when you stepped on them. We’d have a small group of close family and friends dressed in bright attires only to intensify my anxiousness. On either side of the aisle, they sat in white chairs set up for them on the sand.

“Okay, okay Avel, you need to breathe… Can you do that for me?” one of my bridesmaids whispered in my left ear. My cheeks