The forest was quiet again.
Not silent—
alive.
The soft wind moved through the tall trees.
Leaves danced above them.
Sunlight filtered through the branches in golden lines.
And beneath the old vow tree—
Everyone sat in a circle.
The wedding planner stood in front of them, tablet in hand.
"One final question," she said with a professional smile.
Everyone looked up.
"Who will officiate the ceremony?"
Silence followed.
Michael looked at Lucas.
Then slowly said—
"What about Rev. Fr. Benedict?"
Grace smiled immediately.
"Oh."
Lucas' face softened.
Grandma nodded.
"That would be beautiful."
Even Lina looked emotional.
Michael smiled.
"It would mean everything."
So he called.
The phone rang twice.
Then—
"Michael?"
"Father Benedict."
The priest's voice warmed instantly.
"My son."
Michael smiled.
"I have something important to ask."
"I'm listening."
Michael looked at Lucas.
Their fingers intertwined.
"Our wedding is next Friday."
A pause.
Then warm laughter.
"Thats cool"
Michael smiled.
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then softly—
"Would you officiate it?"
Silence.
Longer this time.
The kind of silence that carried weight.
Michael's smile slowly faded.
"Father?"
Then Rev. Fr. Benedict finally spoke.
His voice was gentle.
"If my heart alone could decide…"
Michael swallowed.
"…I would gladly stand there myself."
Hope rose in Michael's chest.
But then—
"My priesthood does not permit it."
The words landed softly—
but they still hurt.
Michael looked down.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Just… quiet.
"I understand."
And he truly did.
Then Rev. Fr. Benedict continued.
"But Michael…"
Michael lifted his head.
"My blessing?"
His voice grew warmer.
"You have always had it."
Michael's eyes filled instantly.
"I watched you struggle."
"I watched you question yourself."
"I watched you carry guilt that never belonged to you."
A pause.
Then—
"God's love was never absent from your life."
Michael cried.
Right there beneath the trees.
Quiet tears.
Lucas squeezed his hand.
And Fr. Benedict said one last thing—
"Love him well."
Michael nodded.
"I will."
The call ended.
And somehow—
peace remained.
No bitterness.
Only peace.
The wedding planner cleared her throat.
"So…"
She smiled kindly.
"Shall we choose another officiant?"
Michael laughed softly and wiped his eyes.
"Yes."
She listed options.
"A civil officiant."
"An inclusive minister."
"A humanist celebrant."
Lucas looked at Michael.
"What matters most?"
Michael answered immediately.
"Someone who believes love deserves witness."
Lucas smiled.
"That one."
And the planner nodded.
"Perfect."
Unfortunately—
peace lasted exactly thirty seconds.
Because Jasail raised his hand.
"I can officiate."
Everyone turned.
"No," Lucas said immediately.
"I've watched three weddings online."
"No."
"I know the lines."
"No."
"I can memorize vows."
Grandma laughed.
"He is confident."
Jasail folded his arms.
"You'll regret rejecting greatness."
Michael laughed so hard he bent over.
The rest of the evening was spent walking around the venue.
The planner marked:
the entrance path
the seating arrangement
the old vow tree
the reception clearing
the dance floor
Michael walked slowly.
Taking it all in.
Then stopped.
And quietly imagined it.
Guests seated.
Music playing.
His family was smiling.
Lucas waiting at the altar.
Waiting for him.
His chest tightened.
And tears threatened again.
Lucas noticed immediately.
"You okay?"
Michael smiled.
"Yeah."
Then whispered—
"It's becoming real."
Lucas kissed his temple.
"It's been real."
Later that evening—
their outfits arrived.
Boxes.
Garment bags.
Shoes.
Accessories.
Excitement filled the house.
Michael changed first.
When he stepped out—
everything stopped.
Lucas looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
Michael wore a perfectly tailored ivory suit.
Elegant.
Sharp.
Beautiful.
"What?" Michael asked shyly.
Lucas just stared.
Then whispered—
"You look like the answer to every prayer I was afraid to pray."
Michael froze.
Then he blushed deeply.
Grace screamed.
"Oh my God."
Lina clutched her chest.
"Why are you two like this?"
Jasail simply nodded.
"Approved."
That night—
they wrote their vows.
Separately.
As instructed.
Michael sat by the window in his room.
Blank page.
Pen in hand.
But nothing came.
Too many emotions.
Too many memories.
Then—
a knock.
His mother entered quietly.
He looked up.
"Mum?"
She smiled softly.
"Can I come in?"
He nodded.
She sat beside him.
Then saw the blank page.
"Nervous?"
Michael laughed weakly.
"A little."
She looked at him for a long time.
Then gently held his hand.
"When you were little…"
Michael turned toward her.
"…I used to pray for your happiness every night."
His eyes softened.
"I thought I knew what that happiness should look like."
She smiled sadly.
"I was wrong."
Michael's eyes filled.
"A mother learns too."
She reached up and touched his face.
"Today, I do not see a son who disappointed me."
Michael broke immediately.
Tears falling.
She smiled through her own.
"I see a son brave enough to become himself."
Michael cried harder.
"And I am proud of you."
He leaned into her.
And hugged her tightly.
Years of distance.
Misunderstanding.
Pain.
Gone in that one embrace.
She whispered into his shoulder—
"Love him well."
Michael nodded through tears.
"Let him love you well."
He nodded again.
Then she added softly—
"And never apologize for your joy again."
Michael held her tighter.
"I love you, Mum."
"I love you too."
Across the hall—
Lucas sat with his own blank page.
Frustrated.
His pen is unmoving.
Then Grandma entered.
Without knocking.
She never knocked.
She sat beside him.
"Still rewriting?"
Lucas sighed.
"I want it to be perfect."
Grandma smiled.
"Marriage is not about perfect days."
He looked at her.
"It is choosing one person again and again— especially on imperfect ones."
Lucas' eyes softened.
She squeezed his hand.
"You spent years protecting others."
He swallowed.
"Tomorrow…"
her voice softened,
"Let yourself be loved too."
That one broke him.
He leaned into her.
And hugged her tightly.
"Thank you."
Grandma smiled.
"For what?"
"For helping me survive long enough to meet him."
She kissed his forehead.
"Now keep him."
Lucas laughed through tears.
"I plan to."
Later—
family dinner.
One big table.
One simple question:
"What is love?"
Grace said: "Patience."
Daniel said: "Safety."
Lina smiled: "Peace."
Grandma: "Choice."
Then everyone looked at Jasail.
He thought carefully.
Then said—
"Sharing fries."
The entire room exploded into laughter.
After dinner—
First dance practice began.
And immediately failed.
Lucas was terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
Michael laughed too much to help.
Lina gave up.
Daniel surrendered.
And somehow—
Jasail became an instructor.
"No!"
he shouted.
"Move your hips like you respect marriage!"
Even Grandma laughed.
It was chaos.
Beautiful chaos.
Late that night—
Everyone slept.
Except Michael and Lucas.
They sat outside.
On the balcony.
Silent.
Hands intertwined.
Their rings reflect moonlight.
No big words.
No speeches.
Just presence.
Then Michael whispered—
"Next week"
Lucas smiled.
"Next week"
Just before heading inside—
the wedding planner appeared again.
She had forgotten one detail.
"Oh—one final question."
They turned.
She smiled.
"Who is walking Michael down the aisle?"
Silence.
The question landed heavily.
Slowly—
Michael turned.
His eyes met one person.
His father.
And for the first time—
His father understood exactly what that look meant.