Wedding Over Wife's Life

I should have been there with them.

The thought gnaws at me as I adjust the white roses in the church sanctuary, their pristine petals catching the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows. Everything has to be perfect for Ophelia's wedding—our wedding. She deserves that much after everything she's been through, fighting this damn cancer that's stealing her away from me piece by piece.

"Jackson, the photographer wants to know about the timing for the ceremony," my best man calls from across the aisle, his voice echoing in the empty space.

I glance at my watch—2:30 PM. Elizabeth and Dakota should be at the mall by now, probably browsing through stores, Dakota dragging her feet as usual while Elizabeth tries to make their Saturday outing seem fun. The guilt twists in my stomach, but I push it down. They'll be fine. Elizabeth's been handling things on her own more and more lately anyway.

My phone buzzes against my chest, and I ignore it. Probably work, or maybe one of the vendors with last-minute questions. Today is about Ophelia, about giving her the wedding she's dreamed of since we were kids, before life got complicated, before I made the mistake of marrying someone else when I thought she was lost to me forever.

"Tell him we start at four sharp," I call back, running my hand through my hair. "Ophelia wanted the late afternoon light for the photos."

The memory of her pale face this morning, the way she smiled despite the exhaustion etched around her eyes, strengthens my resolve. She'd been so weak lately, the chemotherapy taking its toll, but she'd insisted on going through with the ceremony today. "I might not have many good days left," she'd whispered, her fingers intertwined with mine. "I want to be your wife while I still can."

Meanwhile, across town at Westfield Shopping Mall, Elizabeth clutches a small envelope in her purse, the bills inside representing months of careful saving. She'd been setting aside money from the household budget, twenty dollars here, thirty there, skipping lunches and walking instead of taking cabs. All for this moment, standing before the jewelry store display case with Dakota beside her.

"Mom, are you sure about this?" Dakota asks, her young voice carrying a wisdom beyond her years. She's noticed the tension at home, the way her father's attention has shifted elsewhere, the way her mother's smiles have become forced.

Elizabeth's fingers trace the glass as she studies the elegant silver brooch, its surface gleaming under the store's bright lights. The engraving would be simple—just Jackson's initials in flowing script. Nothing too elaborate, nothing that would seem desperate or pathetic. Just a thoughtful gift from a wife who still believes in the man she married, despite the growing distance between them.

"It's his birthday next week," Elizabeth says softly, her voice barely audible above the mall's ambient noise. "I thought... maybe if I showed him that I still care, that I still remember what matters to