The air is heavy with the scent of magnolias. They’re probably his favorite flower. This is the small, quiet ceremony we wanted before the real chaos starts, and honestly, having just our core people here is the only way I could’ve done this.

I’m behind a heavy set of intricately carved wooden doors. Both my arms are linked into my parents’, they’re acting as my anchors. My mom bends to fix the pleats in my dress while my dad leans in and kisses my cheek, a quick, solid “I’ve got you”.

The double doors open and sunlight floods onto my face. Everyone rises as I step onto the aisle, and the weight of my dress grounds me as I take each step. To my left, his family is a sea of warm smiles; to my right, my entire history is looking back at me.

Then, the music starts.

As the years went progressed, I’ve replayed this moment in my head more times than I can count. The dress has changed, the destination has changed, hell, even the groom has changed. But the song never did. Can’t Help Falling in Love has always been there. No song has ever impacted me the same, not even close. My brain has written it into every daydream I’ve had about this moment, every vision of what love might look like when it’s finally mine to hold. At least since I was probably eight years old. I’ve imagined it playing from a DJ booth, a string quartet, or even my free brokie Spotify hooked up to a JBL speaker (let’s hope an ad doesn’t play). Once it was even THE Elvis Presley himself, resurrected for this occasion only.

But now I know the version that sticks. It’s Sophia’s voice.

I met Sophia the summer after sophomore year. Our friends had been hyping us up for weeks, convinced we were basically the same person, and they were pretty spot on. Talking to her for the first time didn’t even feel like a “first” time. It was more like finally remembering someone I’d known my whole life. I never have to explain myself or translate what I’m thinking. She’s just there.

She works her ass off as a PA, but music is her heartbeat. She’s the person who brings her guitar to the hospital for the kids or drags everyone to a karaoke bar on a Sunday just because she loves it. And right now, she’s at my wedding, playing my favorite song.

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The moment is so vivid it almost hurts when it disappears.

I blink, and the sunlight fades. The red fabric softens into fleece. I’m no longer standing at an altar, I’m sitting on a couch in a dim living room, at 9:47 pm on a Tuesday night of junior year at Chapel Hill.

I’m in Sophia’s living room. She’s sitting across from me with her guitar, and she starts singing at my request.

And the entire time I watch her, I see it. All of it. I see the red dress, the aisle, and my parents. I see my bridal party wiping their eyes and my best friend waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a kid, but watching her play, it’s like I’m already there.