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The light was soft and warm, filtering through the tall windows of a small church that was neither overly ornate nor overly modest—exactly the kind Claire would have chosen. The wooden pews bore the marks of time, as if they remembered countless stories, but today they were to bear witness to this one, the most important of all. The air carried the gentle, calming scent of flowers and candles. The silence was not tense—it was full of anticipation.
Leon stood before the altar, upright, though his shoulders betrayed a faint tension. The suit fit him perfectly, but it wasn’t the clothing that made him look different than usual. It was something in his eyes—soft, open, almost shy. His hands were clasped in front of him, his thumbs moving nervously until he finally forced them still. He breathed deeply, as if using one of the techniques he’d learned over the years—only this time it wasn’t fear of death he was steadying himself against, but a surge of emotion he couldn’t control.
He glanced at the gathered guests—few in number, exactly as they had wanted. Jill sat in the front row on Claire’s side, dressed in a simple, pale blue dress that didn’t draw attention to itself yet somehow emphasized her presence all the same. She smiled at Leon warmly, knowingly, as if to say: everything is all right. Leon returned the smile—brief, grateful.
The music began.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t elaborate. It was calm, almost intimate—and in that moment Leon felt his heart beat harder. He turned his head.
Claire appeared at the end of the aisle.
For a fraction of a second, the world seemed to stop.
She stood there holding Chris’s arm, and he looked… different than usual. Less like a soldier, less like a commander. More like a brother doing everything he could not to show how deeply moved he was. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead, but when he looked at Claire there was something soft and protective in his eyes.
Claire wore a simple, elegant dress, free of unnecessary excess. The fabric fell lightly, moving with each step, and the lace at the sleeves looked almost ethereal. Her red hair was pinned up loosely, a few strands escaping as if unwilling to be tamed—exactly like her. Her face was calm, but her eyes revealed everything. Joy. Emotion. Something deep and real.
When their eyes met, Leon felt everything else disappear.
Claire smiled at him—not broadly, not theatrically. It was the smile he’d seen hundreds of times. The quiet, honest one. Just for him.
Chris led her slowly down the aisle, step by step. Claire felt her heart beating in time with the music, felt how each step brought her closer to Leon—to the man who had become her home in a world that so often failed to offer one. Her hand trembled slightly on her brother’s arm.
“You’re doing great.” Chris murmured softly, just for her.
“So are you.” she replied with a faint smile, never taking her eyes off Leon.
When they reached the altar, Chris stopped. He looked at Leon carefully—long and thoughtfully, as if weighing every memory, every moment this man had protected his sister, stood by her, never ran.
At last, he nodded.
“Take care of her.” he said quietly, but firmly.
“Always.” Leon replied without hesitation.
Chris released Claire’s arm and stepped back. For a moment, she stood alone—and then Leon stepped forward and took her hands. His were warm, familiar. Calming.
“You look…” he began, then stopped, shaking his head with a soft, overwhelmed smile. “There isn’t a word that’s enough.”
“You too.” she said quietly. “And you’re shaking.”
“Just a little.” he admitted, squeezing her hands more gently, as if afraid he might hurt her.
The ceremony began calmly. The officiant’s words were simple, meaningful without being heavy. He spoke of the path they had walked together. Of choice. Of the idea that love isn’t the absence of fear, but the decision to stay despite it.
Claire listened, but again and again her attention returned to Leon—to his profile, to the way he breathed deeply, as if every second mattered. She saw his shoulders slowly relax, felt how the presence of her hands steadied him.
When it was time for the vows, Leon swallowed.
“Claire.” he began, his voice low, slightly rough, but steady. “For a long time, I thought I wasn’t someone who could… stay. That I would always be the one who moved on, because that was safer.” he looked straight into her eyes. “And then you came along. And you taught me that home isn’t a place. It’s a person.”
Claire felt her eyes fill with tears, but she didn’t look away.
“I promise to stand by you. Not only when it’s easy. But when it’s quiet. When it’s heavy. When things return that can’t be forgotten. I promise to choose you—every day. I promise to be there. Even when the world tries to break us again. I promise to listen, to fight, to always stand by you. To be your home, if you ever find yourself without one.”
When it was her turn, she took a deep breath.
“Leon.” she said softly. “I’ve always been the one who moved forward. Who saved others because I didn’t know how not to.” she smiled gently. “With you, I learned that I’m allowed to let myself be saved too.”
She tightened her grip on his hands.
“I promise to be your calm when the world is too loud. Your reminder that you don’t have to be alone. And that you will always—always—have somewhere to come back to. I promise to stand by you. To remind you who you are when you forget. And that you will never be alone again. Not in the dark. Not in the silence.”
When the question was asked, they answered together:
“Yes.”
When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, and Leon leaned in to kiss her, the world vanished for a moment. The kiss was gentle, filled with emotions that needed no witnesses—though they had many.
Jill discreetly wiped away a tear, smiling broadly. Chris let out a deep breath, as if only now allowing himself relief.
As they walked back down the aisle together, hand in hand, Claire felt something inside her finally settle. Leon glanced at her from the side.
“You’re still here.” he said half-jokingly.
“And you’re still holding my hand,” she replied. “Looks like we both made it.”
He smiled.
And in that smile was everything: the past, which hadn’t vanished but no longer hurt as much. And the future—which, for the first time, didn’t inspire fear, only a quiet, certain hope.