The church bells were ringing as the sun was coming up. I doubted my senses at the beginning. To confirm, they sent their next call with a loud and crisp tone.
A stabbing pain in my chest appeared. I was already dressed in a suit and sitting in my tiny room but my eyes wouldn’t stop moving to the invitation card lying on the table. There was her name written in gold letters Amara Okeke.
I took it off the table. They started to tremble as I held it. My stomach felt weird.
Bode, my friend, leaning on the door, looked at me with his eyes wide. “David, are you really going? You want to put yourself through this"
I tried to smile. “It’s just a wedding. She invited me. How can I say no?”
He shook his head. “Don’t fool yourself. She invited you to fill the crowd, not because you’re special.”
I ignored him, but his words sank deep. My chest was heavy. I knew today would break me, but I had promised Amara I would come.
When I came to the church, it was already packed. Guests were laughing, snapping pictures, and fixing their clothes. The atmosphere was light, full of joy. Everybody seemed to be in a good mood except for me.
I slowly entered the room, my each step even heavier than the previous one. I did not dare to look ahead, but my eyes still found their way.
And there she was.
Amara.
Beautiful in her bridal gown she was. The jacket with the sequins under the spotlights was almost melting with the floor like water flow. She beamed out of her smile brighter than the chandeliers. She was holding the arm of the man next to her - the man she had picked.
My knees almost gave way. I wanted to turn back. But before I could, an usher smiled and pointed me to a seat.
“David?” someone whispered. I turned. It was her cousin, Chidinma. “Wow. You actually came.”
I nodded. My throat was dry. Words refused to come.
The priest’s voice echoed through the hall.
“Marriage is a holy connection of the two people. It’s the day we acknowledge that tie.”
Every phrase echoed in my mind.
“Amara, are you willing to have this man as your husband?”
Her tone was calm, consistent. “I do.”
My heart dropped. She used to talk to me quietly at night, only that time her words were ‘I love you’.”
“And you, Chuka, do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do.”
The church exploded with cheers and applause. People clapped, laughed, and shouted with delight.
I remained motionless, my palms were sweaty, my heart was shattering.
After that, the words I was most afraid of came.
"You can now kiss the bride."
He went over to her, and kissing her, the hall shouted with joy for a second time.
I turned to a different direction. My eyes were not clear because of tears. One tear ran down my cheek before I could restrain it.
The party was on another level. People could hear the music from afar. The host was generous with food and drinks. Laughter was one of the many things that could be heard in the air.
I was there all alone at my corner, observing. Amara's movements caught my sight as she danced with her husband, and friends. Each motion was like a knife sliding through my chest.
Bode came closer.
“We don’t have to stick here. Let’s get out of here.”
I replied, “No, she requested me to come, so I will definitely be there till the end.”
He sighed deeply. “Then you’ll suffer till the end.”
After a while, Amara walked toward me. My heart jumped. She bent slightly, her gown brushing the floor, and gave me that smile.
“David,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
I tried to speak, but no sound escaped my throat. Eventually, I managed to mumble,
"Congratulations. You look amazing."
She cast a tender glance at me. I was convinced for a split second that I could tell something in her gaze perhaps remorse, perhaps sorrow. Yet she signaled with a quick nod and left before I could confirm it.
That brief moment of pain was more intense than when I heard her promise her vows.
Time seemed to drag on. I was still there while the others were indulging, dancing, and laughing. My thoughts wandered back to the past.
I remembered the day we met in the university library. She had dropped her pen, and I picked it up. Our eyes met, and it felt like the start of something written in the stars.
I remembered our late-night walks around campus, holding hands, talking about dreams that felt too big for us.
I remembered the night she promised me forever, her head on my chest as we looked at the stars.
But then the memories turned dark.
The disagreements. The quietness. The space between us. The moment she told me that she couldn’t keep waiting for me to get my life together. The time she left, going away with only silence for me to be left with.
I was convinced that time had done its work. I considered myself okay. However, being in that hall, seeing her giving another man her smile, I realized that I hadn’t recovered from my pain. It was just a layer of skin that had been put on top of it.
The bouquet toss came. Amara stood, her back to the crowd, flowers in her hands. She gently throws it up, and women jump to catch it.
Finally it landed on the lap a girl sitting with her mother and everyone clapped.
I sat still. That flower was never mine to chase.
I went outside when the part ended. It was cool outside with a nice air.
“David!” a voice called. I turned. It was Amara. She stepped out, her gown glowing under the lights.
“Leaving already?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
She moved over to me and stared right into my eyes. “It has to be tough today. However, I would like to tell you one thing: I will forever be grateful to you for giving me the one thing I never had the formation of the person I am.”
It was as if she stabbed me all over but I replied with a fake smile, “And you will be the melody I never managed to finish.”
She was tears in her eyes. She tried to say something but didn’t. At last, she spoke softly, “Farewell, David.”
“Goodbye, Amara.”
She slowly walked back inside.
I looked up to the sky with tears in my eye the stars was blurred in my eyes. I then understand what it feels like to face music.
It wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t shame. It was truth.
The truth that she was gone. She now belonged to someone else. My chapter in her story had ended.
I walked away from the hall. The laughter and music faded behind me.
“Sometimes,” I whispered to myself, “the hardest music to face is not other people’s joy. It’s your own broken heart.”
That night I went home with my pain. I understood that no matter how love looks, don't put all your mind in it.