Her shoulders sagged, the fight leaving her body. In that moment, I saw my sister not as the bride, or the person who hurt me, but as someone caught in the trap of her own expectations.

“I’m sorry,” Lila said finally, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… wanted everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” I replied, offering her a small smile. “But maybe perfect is overrated.”

The atmosphere shifted as Matthew guided Lila back to the altar, the guests settling into their seats once more. The ceremony resumed, quieter now, with a renewed sense of sincerity. The vows were exchanged, each word spoken with an earnestness that resonated deeper for all that had transpired.