The reception was held just a few steps away, beneath a canopy of string lights and soft linen drapes. Wooden tables were set with candles in glass jars, sprigs of rosemary and lavender, and mismatched vintage plates. Music played in the background—folky, gentle melodies that wrapped around the conversations and laughter like a familiar hug.
There were speeches, of course. Mia's sister stood, eyes teary, voice proud. "I've watched Mia find herself, lose herself, and find her way again. And Ethan—thank you for being her constant. You didn't try to fix her. You waited. You believed in her when she didn't believe in herself. That's love."
Ethan's best friend gave a toast too, joking about Ethan's endless patience and how, "from the day he met Mia, we all knew she'd be the one—he just didn't know it yet."
Later, as twilight fell, Ethan and Mia danced beneath the stars. There was no choreographed performance, no crowd of cameras. Just the two of them swaying gently to a song that only they seemed to hear. Her head rested against his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively, lovingly. The lights twinkled above them, and the ocean whispered in the distance.
"Do you remember the first time we danced?" she asked, looking up at him.
Ethan smiled. "I do. You stepped on my foot."
Mia laughed. "And you told me it was the best pain you'd ever felt."
"I meant it," he said, pulling her closer.
They danced until the stars came out in full force, until the last guests had trickled away and the night had settled into a hushed, peaceful quiet. Back at the cottage—their cottage now—they kicked off their shoes, walked barefoot across the wooden floors, and sat together on the porch, wrapped in a shared blanket, watching the moonlight spill across the sea.
Mia leaned her head on Ethan's shoulder and closed her eyes. She thought of all the roads that had brought her here. The detours, the heartbreaks, the lessons. She wouldn't trade a single one of them. Because without them, she wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be this version of herself. And she wouldn't be in the arms of the man who had loved her through it all.
"What are you thinking?" Ethan asked softly.
"That I'm happy," she said. "Not the kind of happy that fades, but the kind that lives deep inside you. The kind you carry forever."
Ethan kissed her temple. "Then that's all I need to hear."
And as the waves rolled endlessly below them, and the stars blinked down from the heavens above, Mia knew that this was it—not the end of the story, but the beginning of the best chapter yet.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.
Hand in hand. Heart to heart.
Always.