The day of the ceremony came around.
It was quiet.
Not silent, not empty, but quiet in the kind of way that asked everyone to be present.
The small municipal hall in the city centre had been decorated modestly. A few soft white drapes, simple flower arrangements. Someone had even set out bowls of tea and delicate rice sweets near the back for guests. Though there were only a few guests.
Hinos's close friend came, along with a colleague from his office. Wren was accompanied by Mrs. Tanaka from the hotel, who insisted on pinning a tiny blossom into her hair just before they left.
"It's good luck," the older woman said, smoothing Roset's shoulders with a gentle palm. "And you look beautiful, dear."
Roset wore a cream-colored dress. It was simple, elegant, and borrowed from a clothing bank the government provided for refugee ceremonies. Hino wore a tailored navy suit with no tie, his shirt slightly open at the collar, hair neatly combed.
They hadn't rehearsed.
There was no aisle.
No music.
Just a clerk standing beneath a scroll that read "Union in Harmony", and the hush of people holding their breath for the moment to begin.
Rosets's heart beat heavily in her chest as she stepped forward.
Hino met her halfway.
He gave a small bow.
She returned it.
They turned toward the clerk, who greeted them both with a respectful nod and read aloud a prepared vow sanctioned by the repopulation program.
It was formal. Administrative. About mutual responsibility, shared intent, and cooperative commitment to life-building.
But when the clerk asked if they both agreed to enter the union...
Hino looked at her, not the official.
"I do," he said.
Roset met his eyes. They were steady, kind, open.
"I do," she replied.
There was no applause. Just a silence so full it felt like the world was holding its breath.
A stamp was pressed to the final page.
Their names, now joined, were recorded in a thin ledger that would be filed in a government archive.
And just like that, they were husband and wife.
They bowed once more to the clerk, then turned toward the handful of guests, who gave them quiet smiles and murmured congratulations.
Outside, the sun had begun to set.
Roset and Hino stepped into the soft glow together, side by side, two people bound by paper, choice, and a future still unwritten.
As they walked down the steps of the hall, he leaned toward her and said, "Still want that Sunday roast this weekend?"
She laughed, a sound that came easier than it used to.
"I think it might be mandatory now."