You breathe a slow steady breath through your nostrils, as the rabbi turns his head to Lucas, and asks the most explicable question.
"Lucas Douglas, do anda take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to cinta her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as anda both shall live?"
He beams a bright, loving smile at you.
"I do."
anda lose your focus, falling into the apparent colour difference of his eyes from the mere bright stained glass of the church. And, they remind anda of why you're questioning this. There was nothing behind them. No fascination, curiousity, excitement, intelligence, atau fierce desire.
The rabbi gives a questioning glance at you, then continues.
"Lisa Cuddy, do anda take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to cinta him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as anda both shall live?"
Your eyes dart from pew to pew, searching for him. Wilson sits there, focused and compelled. He gives anda a sorrowful smile, watching anda stare blankly at the empty luar angkasa beside him.
"Ms. Cuddy?"
The rabbi questions, slowly. Lucas gently rubs your bare arm, taking your assiduity from the empty seat.
"I...-"
People begin to scoot up in the pews, making squeaky sounds come from the hard wood. Shiny and mooth pieces of your hair sway down across your forehead, as anda bend your head for a moment toward the red carpet floor. Teeth begin to bite the inside of your dry mouth, when anda look back up.
"I can't...-"
His once gleaming smile, begins to turn into a desolate frown.
anda contine, shakily.
"I can't marry... you, Lucas."
The guests begin to turn their heads to one another, already gossiping; He gives a knowing look, and nods, clenching and unclenching his jaws back and forth.
"Here...."
anda say; handing him the bouquet of white calla lilies.
Everyone stares at you. Watching anda walk down the isle with no one on your arm, to the far right corner of the 4th row pew.
"Where is he?"
anda ask Wilson, lip syncing.
"Apartment."
He jawaban you, barely audible to hear.
You're not exactly sane at the moment, you've come to realise. Speeding down a two lane road, isn't what anda call insane, but the reason why you're doing it might be. He was going to be there, he wasn't going out of town, atau leaving and never coming back. Yet, here anda were, driving moronically.
The chill of the wind sweeps under your forever long gown. Causing cold angsa bumps to introduce themselves to the nervous angsa bumps anda had already had. anda enter the hall outside the loft, the loft anda had intended on buying. One hard inhale of air and your knuckles met themselves with the hard white two double doors, knocking loudly.
Two menit went by, and no answer atau grunt of any remoteable sort. So, like any other logical person, anda assume he's not home, atau just doesn't care enough to answer.
A click echoes.
And, he stares at you. A speculative spark in his eyes.
"I didn't get married to Lucas...."
anda let it slowly roll off the tip of your tongue.
His mouth opens slightly, yet no words even muttering out to the surface.
Your bottom lip instinctively pushes out, then draws back in, preparing for what to say.
"I'm in cinta with you."
He gives a small, joyful smile. A smile that could speak louder and mean lebih than any word anda could ever hear.
"You don't deserve to wear white."
He picks, teasingly.
Slowly and easily, he pulls the emas long handle all the way back, expanding the door, and opening anda into his life.
"Lucas Douglas, do anda take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to cinta her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as anda both shall live?"
He beams a bright, loving smile at you.
"I do."
anda lose your focus, falling into the apparent colour difference of his eyes from the mere bright stained glass of the church. And, they remind anda of why you're questioning this. There was nothing behind them. No fascination, curiousity, excitement, intelligence, atau fierce desire.
The rabbi gives a questioning glance at you, then continues.
"Lisa Cuddy, do anda take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to cinta him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as anda both shall live?"
Your eyes dart from pew to pew, searching for him. Wilson sits there, focused and compelled. He gives anda a sorrowful smile, watching anda stare blankly at the empty luar angkasa beside him.
"Ms. Cuddy?"
The rabbi questions, slowly. Lucas gently rubs your bare arm, taking your assiduity from the empty seat.
"I...-"
People begin to scoot up in the pews, making squeaky sounds come from the hard wood. Shiny and mooth pieces of your hair sway down across your forehead, as anda bend your head for a moment toward the red carpet floor. Teeth begin to bite the inside of your dry mouth, when anda look back up.
"I can't...-"
His once gleaming smile, begins to turn into a desolate frown.
anda contine, shakily.
"I can't marry... you, Lucas."
The guests begin to turn their heads to one another, already gossiping; He gives a knowing look, and nods, clenching and unclenching his jaws back and forth.
"Here...."
anda say; handing him the bouquet of white calla lilies.
Everyone stares at you. Watching anda walk down the isle with no one on your arm, to the far right corner of the 4th row pew.
"Where is he?"
anda ask Wilson, lip syncing.
"Apartment."
He jawaban you, barely audible to hear.
You're not exactly sane at the moment, you've come to realise. Speeding down a two lane road, isn't what anda call insane, but the reason why you're doing it might be. He was going to be there, he wasn't going out of town, atau leaving and never coming back. Yet, here anda were, driving moronically.
The chill of the wind sweeps under your forever long gown. Causing cold angsa bumps to introduce themselves to the nervous angsa bumps anda had already had. anda enter the hall outside the loft, the loft anda had intended on buying. One hard inhale of air and your knuckles met themselves with the hard white two double doors, knocking loudly.
Two menit went by, and no answer atau grunt of any remoteable sort. So, like any other logical person, anda assume he's not home, atau just doesn't care enough to answer.
A click echoes.
And, he stares at you. A speculative spark in his eyes.
"I didn't get married to Lucas...."
anda let it slowly roll off the tip of your tongue.
His mouth opens slightly, yet no words even muttering out to the surface.
Your bottom lip instinctively pushes out, then draws back in, preparing for what to say.
"I'm in cinta with you."
He gives a small, joyful smile. A smile that could speak louder and mean lebih than any word anda could ever hear.
"You don't deserve to wear white."
He picks, teasingly.
Slowly and easily, he pulls the emas long handle all the way back, expanding the door, and opening anda into his life.
When does cinta become something we need, rather than something we want? cinta was seen as something special a long time ago. Now cinta is what we are expected to have with us everyday of our lives. cinta is common currency when anda are a teenager, but turns to worthless pennies the older anda get. Do we not care about the substance of what cinta was and not what it has been made into today oleh commercialisation from American film and televisi commercials and soap operas? Only when we experience cinta for real, can we komentar and judge others who are in Love. cinta means something different to everyone. Not two people’s feeling of cinta is the same. Why do we generalize, rationalize and compartmentalize Love? cinta is and will continue to be an enigma. Only a handful of people will ever unlock it and witness its true beauty and essence. The essence we all crave.
Love.
Love.