Behind you, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses drifts from the saloon up the hill. Flowers line the aisle—white roses and eucalyptus, exactly as you'd imagined.

Jimin stands at the altar, waiting.

He's in a soft cream suit, hair swept back, a single flower pinned to his lapel. When he sees you, his whole face changes—like the sun finally breaking through clouds.

Lia. Already here. Already watching.