Vincent had always prided himself on being in control—of his business, his life, his emotions. But when Maria had told him she was getting married, he had lost that control in a way that still haunted him. He'd never imagined it would happen. In his mind, their connection had been unbreakable, a force that neither time nor circumstance could shatter. But life had a way of forcing him to face the truth, no matter how painful it was.
It happened on a rainy Thursday afternoon, the kind of day that left the streets slick with wet pavement and the city buzzing in a muted hum. Maria had been sitting across from him in his office, her usual air of confidence more relaxed than usual, as if she were preparing him for something he wouldn't want to hear. Her words, when they came, were deceptively light, but Vincent had sensed the weight behind them the moment she spoke.
"I'm getting married," she had said, her voice matter-of-fact, as though she were sharing a simple update on her day.
At first, Vincent thought he had heard her. He'd even laughed—nervously, perhaps, but still, the sound had escaped him before he could stop it. The idea of Maria, his Maria, the woman he had shared so many moments of passion and vulnerability with, marrying someone else felt absurd. But then he looked at her face—her eyes steady and sure—and he knew she wasn't joking. This wasn't a prank, nor was it a fleeting thought. Maria was serious.
For a long moment, he couldn't speak. His mind was scrambling, trying to process the reality of what she had just said. His stomach tightened, his chest constricted. In his head, the questions started falling out in rapid succession. Who was he? What had happened to their connection? Was this the end of their affair, the end of everything?
But instead of asking any of those questions, he found himself saying the first thing that came to his mind: "And what, Maria, do you expect me to say to that?"
She leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable, her arms crossed loosely as if bracing herself for his reaction. "I don't expect anything from you, Vincent. I'm just telling you."
The words stung in a way he hadn't anticipated. Of course, she didn't expect anything from him—she never had. They weren't bound by expectations, by promises, or even by love. Their affair had always been a delicate dance of desire, of stolen moments in time, and of two people trying to make sense of their own fractured lives through each other's presence.
"Who's the lucky man?" He asked, though the words felt hollow on his tongue. The idea of her with someone else was foreign, unthinkable.
"Daniel," she said, her tone surprisingly warm. "You'd like him. He's... steady."
"Steady," Vincent repeated, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "Sounds thrilling."
Maria's eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps—but there was a sharpness behind them now, something that warned him she wasn't about to back down. "Not everything has to be thrilling, Vincent. Sometimes steady is what people need."
The underlying message was clear: Maria had made her choice, and Vincent, for all his passion and intensity, had never been steady enough for her. He had been a whirlwind, a tempest that swept through her life with reckless abandon. She needed something else now—someone who could offer her calm, consistency, and stability. Someone who could give her a future that wasn't marked by the chaos of their past.
The conversation shifted then, taking an unexpected turn. As Vincent tried to process the weight of her revelation, Maria surprised him again.
"I want you to be the chairman of my wedding," she said, as though she were discussing a minor detail.
The request hit Vincent like thunderclap. It was preposterous, audacious, and almost cruel. Here was the woman he had loved—or at least thought he had loved—asking him to take a public role in her wedding, to stand by her side as if nothing had ever happened between them. How could she ask him to do that? How could she ask him to play a role in celebrating her marriage to another man when the truth between them still burnt so brightly, so painfully?
For a moment, he thought about refusing outright. The idea of standing there, smiling, shaking hands, and congratulating her as she pledged her life to another man was more than he could bear. But then he looked at her—looked at the resolve in her eyes, the way she was watching him with that familiar, challenging glint. It was as though she was daring him to decline.
"It's symbolic," she had said, her voice soft yet firm, as though she had already decided this was how it had to be. "A sign that we've moved on, that we're mature enough to leave the past behind."
Vincent had agreed, though not for any noble reasons. He had agreed because something deep inside of him couldn't let go. He wanted to see her one last time in this context, to confirm for himself whether she truly meant to close the door on everything they had shared. He didn't know why he had agreed to be there—it was masochistic, self-destructive—but he couldn't resist.
The day of the wedding arrived, and Vincent found himself thrust into a role he was wholly unprepared for. As chairman, he had been tasked with overseeing every detail of the event—from the seating arrangements to the speeches to the flow of the evening. It was a position of honour, typically reserved for a close family member or a revered mentor. In this case, however, it was a position that felt more like a trap.
The ceremony was beautiful, pristine, and everything Vincent had expected. He stood in the back, watching as Maria walked down the aisle, her father beside her, his eyes brimming with pride. She was stunning, radiating a kind of quiet grace that only heightened the distance between them. Her wedding dress was immaculate, flowing behind her like a veil of light, and for a brief moment, Vincent could almost pretend that they were still part of each other's lives. But as soon as Maria's eyes met Daniel's, that illusion shattered.
She didn't glance in his direction once; her gaze fixed firmly on the man she was marrying. It was as though she had already forgotten the existence of the man who had been the most significant part of her life for so long. That thought cut deeper than Vincent was prepared for. He had always known that Maria was capable of moving on. But to see it happen in real time, in front of his eyes, was a reality he couldn't deny.
He remained stoic, of course. It was his job to smile and to play the part of the happy, supportive friend, the chairman, who was honoured to be there. But inside, he felt like he was drowning. The smile he plastered on his face was a mask, a fragile facade that barely concealed the chaos of his thoughts.
At the reception, he continued to play his role. He mingled with the guests, smiled at the toasts, and raised his glass in celebration. He even spoke with Daniel, who was everything Vincent had expected: warm, affable, and completely unaware of the complexities of the woman he had married.
"Maria's an incredible woman," Daniel said, his admiration evident in every word. "I'm lucky to have her."
Vincent forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to agree. How could Daniel truly understand the depths of Maria? How could he appreciate her the way Vincent had? He was a man who had only seen the surface, the steady exterior, while Vincent had experienced the storm inside of her—the unpredictability, the passion, the fire. Daniel would never know that.
When it came time for the toast, Vincent found himself at the microphone. The room fell silent as he began to speak, and for a moment, it was as if time had slowed. The words came easily, but the weight behind them was almost unbearable.
"Marriage," Vincent said, his voice steady despite the turbulent emotions inside of him, "is a partnership built on trust, respect, and love. It's about finding someone who sees you for who you are—your strengths, your flaws—and chooses to stand by your side anyway."
His eyes found Maria's then, and for a brief moment, she looked back at him. The smile on her face faltered, just slightly, as if something unsaid passed between them in that fleeting instant. But then she quickly regained her composure, her smile back in place, and Vincent had to force himself to continue.
"To Maria and Daniel," he said, raising his glass. "May your life together be filled with joy, adventure, and the kind of love that grows stronger with each passing day."
The room erupted in applause, the sound deafening, but Vincent barely heard it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the crushing weight of the truth that had finally settled deep within him. Maria was no longer his. She never had been, not in the way he had wanted her to be. The reality was simple, undeniable: he had lost her.
And in that moment, as he stood there in front of a room full of people, Vincent realised that no matter how much he tried to hold on, some things—some people—were never meant to be his.