The music shifted.
Not dramatically—just a subtle change from background ambiance to something more intentional.
The guests quieted, straightening in their seats, turning toward the house.
Padre Antonio stood at the center of the arbor—an elderly priest who'd known the Romano family for decades, his white hair bright in the afternoon sun, his smile warm and genuine.
Don Luciano sat in the front row beside Charlotte, his hands already clasped tightly, his expression composed but attentive.
Matteo stood at the end of the left aisle, Jianyu beside him.
His heart hammered so hard he was certain everyone could hear it.
He wiped his palms on his pants, caught himself, stopped.
"Breathe," Jianyu murmured. "He'll be here any second."
"I know. I just...."
Then he saw him.
Felix appeared at the end of the right aisle, Victor beside him, and Matteo forgot how to breathe entirely.
The light blue suit was perfect.
Felix's face was nervous and radiant and beautiful.
