As the day of the rehearsal draws closer, I focus on small tasks to keep the anxiety at bay.
Preparing meals, organizing my work, anything to keep my mind occupied.
The phone rings often, my husband checking in, his voice a thin thread of connection.
But it’s not enough to bridge the distance between us, the unspoken words that hang in the air.
On the morning of the rehearsal, I stand in front of the mirror, trying to find a version of myself that feels strong enough.
The reflection is familiar yet foreign, a reminder of how much has changed in such a short time.
My phone buzzes with a message, my husband reminding me of the time, his words neutral, careful.
I arrive at the rooftop early, the sun just beginning its descent, casting a golden hue over the cityscape.
The air is cool, the breeze a gentle reminder of the evening to come.
Family members begin to arrive, their faces a mix of anticipation and unease.
