The church bells chimed, sweet and solemn, the air filled with the scent of roses and anticipation. Guests milled about in their best clothes, snapping photos, adjusting ties, fanning themselves in the afternoon sun.

And there, just outside the grand wooden doors, stood Charles — disheveled, breathless, his overprized blazer rumpled like he’d wrestled it on in a cab. His hair stuck out at odd angles, his tie was crooked, and his eyes — oh, his eyes were wild, wide with panic and regret.