The limousine's leather seats creaked under the weight of warm, still bodies, the engine humming low through the floor like a heartbeat that wouldn't decide whether to race or rest. Phuwin's reflection stared back at him from the window glass—sparkles caught in the fluff of his brown bangs, the diamond clip nestled among white flowers, the silver S necklace resting cool and heavy against his collarbone. He couldn't look away from himself. The white crop top hugged his ribs, the black pants clung to every curve, and the high-heeled boots made his legs look impossibly long. His long white fluffy trail. He looked like someone else. Someone who got to have this.

"God..." His voice came out shaky and breathless, barely a shape of sound. His fingers found the S pendant, thumb tracing the worn edges of the tiny photo inside. Soònào's smile, faded but there. Always there.

Siyh's hand landed on his thigh, stroking lightly through the black fabric. "Hey. You're gonna break the necklace if you squeeze it that hard."

Phuwin blinked, loosening his grip. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Siyh's voice was softer than usual, stripped of its sharp edges. "Just breathe, okay? You've got this."

He tried to laugh, but it came out wet and wrong. "Do I?"

"Phuwin." She squeezed his thigh, firm enough to ground him. "You look so sexy right now I'm genuinely mad about it. Like, I've known you for six years and suddenly you're a whole model? That's so unfair."

His lips twitched despite everything. "You're supposed to be comforting me."

"I am comforting you. By telling you the truth." Siyh's grin was bright, sharp, familiar. "If I weren't your best friend and also not into woman, I'd be climbing you like a tree."

"Please don't."

"Too late. The image is in my head now. You've ruined my life."

Phuwin laughed—a real one, small but genuine, cracking through the tightness in his chest. The girls in the seats across from them looked over, Mint and Jaaro and Tai and Kioer's girlfriend, all of them in white dresses, all of them glowing. They'd been chattering about something, but now they went quiet, watching him with soft eyes.

"What?" Phuwin's cheeks warmed. "Why are you all staring at me?"

"Because you look like a dream," Tai said simply. "And I'm trying to memorize it so I can tell my grandchildren I was here."

"That's so dramatic."

"It's true, though." Jaaro leaned forward, bracelets clinking at her wrist. "When we pulled up to the house this morning, I literally forgot how to breathe. Mint had to poke me."

"You poked me in the ribs so hard I have a bruise," Mint added, deadpan.

"Worth it."

The laughter that moved through the limousine was warm, easy, the kind that came from people who'd known each other long enough to be cruel and kind in the same breath. Phuwin let it wash over him, let it loosen the knot in his stomach—just a little. Just enough.

He turned back to the window. The city was giving way to open road, trees blurring past in smears of green and gold. Somewhere ahead, the beach waited. Pond waited. Godji waited. Soònào—maybe. He didn't know if she'd really show up. He didn't know if she could. But the necklace was warm against his chest, and that felt like a promise.

"Everyone's going to cry," Siyh said, as if reading his thoughts. "Like, not just a little. Full ugly crying. I'm already budgeting my mascara."

"You're wearing mascara?" Phuwin glanced at her—at the pearls in her hair, the rhinestones catching the light, the sparkle of something silver on her collarbone.

"Obviously. It's your wedding. I'm contractually obligated to look hot for the photos."

"There's no contract."

"There's a vibes contract. It's binding."

Phuwin shook his head, but he was smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet you love me."

"Unfortunately."

Siyh's hand was still on his thigh, thumb tracing slow circles through the black fabric. "Seriously, though. How are you feeling?"

The question sat between them, heavy and honest. Phuwin looked down at his lap—at the veil gloves covering his hands, the bracelets catching the light, the white trail of his outfit pooled around his high-heeled boots like a river of fabric. He'd never worn anything like this before. He'd never imagined himself in something like this. But when he'd looked in the mirror this morning, something in his chest had loosened, and he'd heard Soònào's voice in his head—soft and teasing, the way she always was: See? I told you. A dress would've been perfect.

He'd laughed then, alone in the guest room, and the sound had surprised him.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," he said finally. "Like any second I'm going to wake up in my bed at the bakery and this will all have been—" He gestured vaguely at himself, at the sparkles in his hair, at the ring on his finger. "I don't know. Too good to be true."

Siyh's hand stilled. "Phuwin."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't—"

"No, listen to me." She turned in her seat, facing him fully. "You deserve this. You deserve every single piece of this. The dress—"

"It's not a dress."

"The outfit, whatever. The ring. The man. The day. All of it." Her eyes were fierce, bright, the kind of fierce that had carried him through six years of everything. "You've been through hell, and you're still here, and you're still choosing love, and that's not too good to be true. That's just true."

Phuwin's throat tightened. "Siyh—"

"I mean it. And if you start crying, I'm going to cry, and then we're both going to look terrible in the photos, and Pond's going to think I made you sad on your wedding day."

"He wouldn't think that."

"He'd think it and then he'd fight me. And I don't want to fight a man with biceps bigger than my head."

Phuwin laughed, wet and shaky, and Siyh's grip on his thigh loosened into something gentler. "You're one of best friends I've ever had," he said quietly.

"I know. I'm amazing. It's exhausting."

"Thank you."

Siyh's smile softened. "Always, Phuwin. Always."

The limousine hummed along the road, the girls' chatter filling the space around them—something about the reception, about dancing, about how Kioer's baby had already stolen everyone's hearts. Phuwin let the words wash over him, let the warmth of them settle into his bones. He looked down at his hands again, at the veil gloves that covered his fingers, and he thought about how small they looked. How steady.

The S necklace pressed against his collarbone, cool and heavy, and he held it again without thinking. The tiny photo inside—Soònào's smile, frozen in time, worn from years of his thumb running over it. He'd worn this necklace every day since her funeral, taken it off only when he thought he couldn't bear the weight of it, and now it felt like the most natural thing in the world to have it here, on this day, so close to his heart.

"She's going to be there," Siyh said softly, and Phuwin looked up, startled. "I don't know how, or in what way. But she's not going to miss this."

Phuwin swallowed. "How do you know?"

"Because she loves you. And because I've seen her." Siyh's voice was quiet, certain. "She's not going to let you walk down the aisle alone."

Phuwin's eyes burned. He blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall, refusing to ruin his makeup before they'd even arrived. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

He didn't have words for the feeling that moved through him then—gratitude, maybe, or grief, or love so big it didn't fit in his chest. He just squeezed Siyh's hand and let her squeeze back, and for a moment, the limousine felt less like a car and more like a vessel, carrying him toward something he'd never dared to believe he could have.

The road curved, and the trees thinned, and then—there it was.

The beach.

Phuwin's breath caught. Through the window, he could see the sand stretching wide and pale, the water glittering beyond it, and people. So many people. They dotted the shoreline like scattered stones, clusters of white and pastel, moving slow and easy. Pond's family, probably. Cousins and aunts and uncles. People he'd never met, who'd come to watch him marry the love of his life.

"Oh, God," he breathed.

"Don't say 'oh God,'" Mint said from across the seat. "Say 'oh wow, look at all these people who love me.'"

"That's—that's a lot of people."

"That's a lot of people who are about to watch you look incredibly hot and marry an incredibly hot man," Jaaro corrected. "Perspective."

Phuwin laughed, but it was shaky, breathless. His heart was pounding, a wild drumbeat in his chest that wouldn't quiet. He could see the arch at the water's edge, draped in white fabric and flowers, and beneath it—was that Pond? He couldn't tell from here. He couldn't see clearly enough. But the thought of it made his pulse stutter.

"Siyh." His voice cracked. "Siyh, I think I'm going to pass out."

"You're not going to pass out."

"I might."

"You won't. Because if you pass out, I'm going to have to carry you down the aisle, and I'm not strong enough, and then we'll both fall, and the photos will be terrible." Siyh's hand found his again, squeezing. "So you're going to breathe, and you're going to be fine, and you're going to marry your man."

Phuwin breathed. In. Out. In. Out. The world steadied around him, the edges sharpening back into focus.

The limousine slowed.

At the entrance to the beach, a figure stood waiting—apron still on, flour dusting her hands, phone in one hand and a smile on her face. Godji. She looked up as the limousine approached, and her smile widened, warm and bright and full of everything she'd never said aloud.

Phuwin's throat closed.

The limousine came to a full stop, the engine settling into silence.

"Okay," Siyh said softly, her hand still on his thigh. "You ready?"

Phuwin's hand gripped the S necklace, the metal cool against his palm, the tiny photo of Soònào pressed against his heart. He looked at Godji, waiting at the entrance. He looked at the beach beyond her, at the crowd of people, at the arch by the water.

Somewhere out there, Pond was waiting.

Phuwin took a deep breath, and his hand stayed on the necklace, and the door began to open.

The door didn't open all the way. Not yet. It cracked—just a sliver of salt air and sunlight slipping through, carrying the distant sound of waves and voices—and then paused, as if the world itself was holding its breath alongside him.

Phuwin's fingers tightened on the S pendant. The metal had warmed to his skin now, no longer cool but still heavy, still solid, still real. He could feel the tiny photo through the frame—Soònào's smile, worn smooth at the edges from years of his thumb finding it in the dark, in the quiet, in the moments when he thought he couldn't breathe. She was here. She had to be. He could almost smell jasmine beneath the salt air, faint and fleeting, there and gone before he could name it.

"Phuwin." Siyh's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Her hand was still on his thigh, warm through the black fabric. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Where you go somewhere else. Somewhere I can't follow."

He looked at her. Really looked. At the pearls in her hair, the rhinestones catching the light, the way her sharp edges had softened into something almost tender. She'd been with him for six years. She'd held him when he broke, laughed with him when he healed, and never once let him forget that he was worth staying for.

"I'm here," he said, and meant it. "I'm right here."

Siyh's smile was small but real. "Good. Because I don't think Pond would forgive me if I let you float away before the wedding."

The mention of Pond's name sent a flutter through his chest—wild and warm and terrifying. Phuwin looked down at his lap, at the veil gloves covering his hands, and noticed for the first time the weight of the small purse resting against his hip. Siyh had handed it to him what felt like hours ago, and he'd barely registered it. Now he reached for it, fingers clumsy in the gloves, and opened the clasp.

His phone was inside. He pulled it out, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the last text he'd sent Pond this morning, a shaky I love you sent before the chaos of getting ready had swallowed him whole. No reply yet. But Pond was probably being smacked with slippers by Kioer, or being teased by Taehyung, or holding his sleeping niece and looking like the whole world had been made for him.

Phuwin's thumb hovered over the screen. He could text him. Just one word. Just I'm here. But the door was already cracking open, and Godji was waiting, and the beach was full of people who'd come to watch him marry the love of his life.

He put the phone back in the purse and closed the clasp.

"Everything okay?" Mint asked from across the seat.

Phuwin nodded, tucking the purse against his hip. "Yeah. Just—checking."

"Checking what?" Jaaro leaned forward, bracelets clinking. "That Pond hasn't run away?"

"He wouldn't run away." Phuwin's voice came out steadier than he felt. "He's the one who proposed. Twice."

"Three times if you count the first one," Tai added, and the girls laughed—bright, easy, the kind of laughter that had carried him through so many ordinary days. Phuwin felt something loosen in his chest, just a little.

Through the cracked door, he could hear the waves now—steady, rhythmic, a heartbeat that didn't care about nerves or fear or the weight of a thousand eyes. The beach smelled like salt and sunscreen and something floral, probably the arrangements set up around the arch. He thought about Pond standing there, waiting, probably pacing, probably running a hand through his styled hair and messing it up without realizing.

The thought made him smile.

"Okay," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Okay. I can do this."

Siyh squeezed his thigh once, firm and grounding. "You can do this. And when it's over, we're going to eat so much cake you'll have to roll me home."

"Godji's making the cake?"

"Obviously. Did you think we'd trust anyone else?"

Phuwin laughed, and the sound surprised him—clear and bright, cutting through the fog of nerves. He looked through the cracked door again, at Godji waiting at the entrance, phone now tucked away, hands clasped in front of her dress. She was smiling. She was always smiling when she looked at him, even when he was falling apart, even when he thought he couldn't go on. She'd raised him. She'd loved him. She'd climbed a mountain just to prove she could choose him.

The door opened wider.

Phuwin took a breath, and the S necklace pressed against his heart, and the world tilted forward into light.