The dressing room on Deck 3 was a flurry of soft fabrics, delicate perfume, and nervous energy. Lights lined the vanity mirrors, casting a gentle glow across Riza's face as she sat in a plush chair, trying to focus on her breathing while Lydia stood behind her like an over-caffeinated storm of makeup brushes and emotional commentary.
"Ohhh my stars," Lydia practically sang, carefully dabbing a gentle shimmer along Riza's cheekbone. "I knew this day was coming. You have no idea how hard it was not to just start planning this wedding for you two the moment you left the diner hand-in-hand that night!"
Riza groaned softly, squinting one eye shut as Lydia adjusted her angle. "Can we please not do the whole 'love bird' thing right now?" she said, voice taut with playful exasperation.
But Lydia was already full throttle. "Too late, sweetheart. You're about to become Mrs. Lovey-Dovey 'Oh-Pepper-he's-so-perfect-I-can't-even-deal,' and I'm not letting you escape the full emotional spectrum." She stepped back, examining her handiwork with a dramatic flourish of her wrist. "Ugh. Stunning. Pepper's going to combust when he sees you."
Riza rolled her eyes but couldn't help the tug at the corner of her lips. "He better not combust before the vows. I already signed off on the cake and the seating chart. We're too far in for spontaneous combustion now."
Lydia laughed, digging through a tray of lipsticks. "Girl, please. That man would walk through a plasma storm for you. You've got him wrapped tighter than my apron during a rush."
"You say that like I tried to," Riza muttered, cheeks just beginning to glow despite her efforts to remain stoic.
"Please," Lydia scoffed, expertly lining Riza's lips. "The way you blushed when he brought you that milkshake with two straws? Iconic. Honestly, the ship should've paused operations and declared it a planetary holiday."
Riza groaned again, burying her face in her hands for a brief moment. "You're unbearable."
"And yet here I am. Your maid of honor. Touching your face. Fixing your liner. Bearing the unbearable burden of being completely, totally, and smugly right." Lydia grinned, tossing her braid over her shoulder.
"You're lucky I love you," Riza said, her tone dry but her smile wide now.
"I know. I'm everyone's favorite chaos goblin," Lydia said, striking a silly pose in the mirror before suddenly softening. "But seriously, Riza… I'm proud of you. And I'm happy. Like, really happy. You two… you just fit. I always saw it."
Riza's expression melted into something quiet and touched, and for a few seconds, the room was silent aside from the faint hum of the ship's engines and the soft buzz of excitement just outside the door.
She reached up, gently resting her hand over Lydia's. "Thanks, Lyds. For everything."
Lydia blinked, then sniffed dramatically. "Ugh. You're gonna ruin the eyeliner if you get me all misty-eyed. Stop being so touching."
Riza snorted. "Make me."
"I would, but you're the bride today. I suppose I'll let you win this one."
The dressing room was quiet—too quiet.
I stared at myself in the mirror, hands pressed on the countertop, trying to breathe through what felt like an iron vice clamped around my lungs. My bowtie was a little too tight, or maybe it was just my chest. I couldn't tell anymore. My reflection stared back, jaw clenched, the corners of my mouth twitching as a dozen thousand thoughts rampaged through my mind like stampeding buffalo.
What if she's not sure? What if this is too fast—no, too late? Seven years, Pepper. Seven years.You could've said something so much earlier.What if she realized she deserves better?What if she changes her mind while walking down the aisle?What if she's not coming at all—
My chest tightened. I blinked hard. The edges of my vision fuzzed and warped, and the ornate edges of the mirror frame started to stretch like ripples in water. My fingers trembled as I gripped the countertop harder, like it was the only thing keeping me from crumbling into pieces.
Then—"Yooooo!" a voice sang behind me, before two arms wrapped around me in a bear hug so aggressive it nearly lifted me off the ground.
I let out a startled gasp as Lydia yanked me backward, squeezing the breath out of my spiraling lungs. "What in the ever-loving stars do you think you're doing, lover boy?" she chirped in my ear.
I staggered a bit as she released me, blinking wildly. "L-Lydia?" I gasped, turning to face her. She was already grinning ear to ear, clad in her deep plum bridesmaid dress with her hair pinned up in chaotic curls that somehow worked.
"Whew," she said, fanning herself theatrically. "If I hadn't come in when I did, you were two seconds from passing out and ruining that sharp-ass tux. What, did someone replace your oxygen with pure anxiety?"
I tried to laugh but it came out more like a wheeze. "I… I don't know," I said honestly. "I just… what if she changes her mind, you know? What if I took too long to get here? Seven years is a long time. What if she finally realized I'm not—what if I waited until she didn't want to wait anymore?"
Lydia blinked once, and then she laughed. Not mean or mocking—just warm, genuine laughter like she knew something I didn't. "Oh, honey," she said, stepping closer and gently fixing the lapel of my jacket. "Do you think someone waits seven years just to turn around at the altar?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I just… I'm scared."
"Good," she said with a wink. "That means you're not stupid. But let me tell you something—Riza? That girl's been ride-or-die since milkshake night one. If anything, you're lucky she didn't propose first. And I guarantee she's just as nervous right now about whether you're gonna combust before she gets to say 'I do.'"
I exhaled a shaky breath, her words finally beginning to steady my pulse.
"She loves you, Pepper," Lydia said firmly, brushing an invisible speck of lint from my jacket. "The full, stupid, anxious, space-brained, sweetheart that you are. And trust me, she's not backing out. If anything…" She paused, raising a mischievous brow. "You might want to brace yourself. That woman's probably planning to tackle you at the altar."
That made me laugh. Really laugh.
"Thanks, Lydia," I said quietly.
She gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Now breathe, champ. You've got a wedding to star in. And between you and me?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "I always knew it'd be you two."
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Oh, definitely. You're both hopeless disasters in love. A perfect match."
And with that, she was gone again—off in a swirl of mischief and plum silk, leaving the air a little easier to breathe and my hands a little steadier.
Pepper stood beneath the soft archway of white silk and blooming silver lilies, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. The lights of the garden chapel bathed everything in a gentle, golden hue, and the soft hum of conversation died down to a reverent hush. He swallowed, hard, feeling the nerves flutter in his stomach like a thousand restless stars.
The air felt thick with emotion, time stretching longer with every passing second. His heart thudded in his chest, loud and steady, as he stared down the aisle.
Then—off to the side, standing at the front of the bridal party—Lydia caught his eye. Ever the menace, ever the mischief-maker, she gave him the tiniest of smirks and subtly tilted her head as if to say: Don't even think about running, Romeo. A single raised brow followed, teasing, daring him to doubt what was about to walk through those doors. No one else noticed it. But he did. And, somehow, it was exactly what he needed.
He exhaled.
And then—the music began.
The string quartet swelled with a rich, romantic melody that echoed through the chapel like a heartbeat, and the doors slowly parted.
There she was.
Riza stood framed in the doorway, the soft white of her gown shimmering like starlight against the deep emerald backdrop of the garden behind her. Her hair was pinned with silver threads and subtle gems that caught the light with every step, and her eyes—those brilliant cerulean eyes—locked onto his with a radiant joy that stole the air from his lungs.
Pepper felt the world vanish. There were no guests. No nerves. No past. No future. Just her. Walking toward him. And the rest of his life in every step.
Riza stood just behind the tall double doors, her fingers gently gripping the bouquet in front of her as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. The muffled sound of the guests on the other side was barely audible over the thundering of her heart. Her cheeks were already flushed with excitement, and the soft shimmer of her veil framed a face brimming with nervous joy.
Okay... deep breath, she told herself, then immediately let out a tiny squeal of air instead. It's happening. I'm really doing this.
She fought the urge to pace, glancing down at her gown to make sure it still fell perfectly over her shoes. It did. Every moment, every stitch, every sparkle had been checked a hundred times. Lydia had made sure of that. But this moment felt different. More real. More impossible. More… perfect.
Her heart fluttered when the music finally started—gentle, melodic strings rising like sunlight over the horizon. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, one hand lightly patting her chest.
"Okay. Okay, now," she whispered under her breath, smiling to herself.
The doors slowly creaked open.
And just like that, she stepped forward.
Her first few steps were careful and precise, but quickly melted into a natural rhythm, her shoulders relaxing as her eyes found the one person who could anchor her in the middle of this dream. Pepper. Standing there, looking like he might pass out from holding his breath. That made her giggle a little.
She tried not to grin too wide. Failed. Her lips curled into the kind of smile that only came once in a lifetime.
As she walked, her grip on her bouquet tightened—not from fear, but from overwhelming joy. She resisted the urge to skip. Stay elegant, she reminded herself. But her eyes sparkled with every step, her heart dancing in her chest.
By the time she reached the halfway mark, she swore she saw Pepper blink a few extra times. And oh, did that make her heart soar.
This is it, she thought, this is really it.
And as she neared him, each step felt lighter, like the very air was carrying her.
The music continued to swell in gentle waves as Riza approached, her dress trailing like a whispered promise behind her, the delicate shimmer of her veil catching the ambient starlight spilling down from the crystalline ceiling of the chapel. Floral lights suspended in glass orbs hung in gentle orbits, casting soft glows across every surface like a field of fireflies frozen in a moment of awe. Rows of friends, family, crewmates, and those who'd followed our journey watched with hushed reverence as she made her way forward, each step carrying years of stories in its wake.
I stood tall—or tried to. My shoulders were squared, but my chest rose and fell a little too fast. My hands were clasped in front of me, fingers brushing nervously together. And then our eyes met—and just like that, all the noise around me vanished. The music, the subtle movements of the guests, even Lydia's gentle shift behind me—it all blurred. All I could see was her. My bride.
When Riza finally reached the ceremonial dais, she turned to her escort with a smile and stepped up alone. Her heels barely made a sound as she walked the final few paces to stand before me. I don't even know if I was breathing at that point. Her eyes locked with mine, and for a second, the entire galaxy paused.
"Hi," I whispered. It was all I could manage.
She smiled—radiant and brilliant. "Hi."
It was enough.
The officiant stepped forward. An older woman with silver hair and robes of deep sapphire, she had a voice that immediately calmed the soul. "We gather here today," she said gently, "not simply to witness the joining of two souls, but to celebrate the love that has already bound them through time, space, and the wildest of adventures."
Lydia, ever the menace, dabbed at her eyes dramatically and caught my eye just long enough to flash a smug smirk and a sly thumbs-up. I almost laughed.
"Pepper," the officiant said, turning to me, "do you come here of your own free will, with the intent to honor, cherish, and grow alongside the woman before you, through all seasons and trials that life may bring?"
"I do," I said, and I meant every syllable. "With everything I am."
"And Riza," the officiant turned to her, "do you come here of your own free will, with the intent to walk beside this man through every storm and sunrise, to laugh with him in joy and shoulder him in hardship, as your partner, your confidant, and your home?"
Riza looked at me with eyes that made my heart ache. "I do," she said softly. "A hundred times over, I do."
The officiant smiled warmly. "Then, as is tradition, we invite you to speak your own vows."
I swallowed, reached into my jacket, and pulled out a small folded card I'd rewritten at least a dozen times. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.
"I spent days trying to write this," I said, my voice low and tight in my throat. "Tried to make it poetic, tried to make it strong… but every time I wrote something down, I realized it wasn't enough. Because nothing I could write could match the way I feel when I look at you."
She was already misty-eyed, and that only made my own heart beat louder.
"You've been my closest friend, my loudest supporter, and my softest landing. I've watched you laugh until you couldn't breathe, fight through exhaustion, cry during every sad holofilm, and get mad at vending machines. And somehow, in all of that chaos… you became the one person I couldn't imagine my life without. So I don't promise perfection. I don't promise we'll never mess up or argue or fall down. But I do promise I'll never walk away. I promise to always choose you. Every single day."
I saw Lydia pass a tissue to the best man. That earned a small smile.
The officiant gave Riza a gentle nod, and she looked down for a moment before lifting her chin.
"I… I didn't think I'd be nervous," she said, and people chuckled softly. "But standing here now, looking at you, I realize… it's because this means everything."
She took a breath, and I held mine.
"Pepper. You've always been the calm in my storm. The one who listens when I need to vent, who brings me snacks when I forget to eat, who lets me rant at holo-dramas and doesn't judge me for crying at documentaries. You've always seen me. All of me. Even the messy, grumpy, tired, anxious parts I try to hide."
I bit my lip and blinked quickly.
"And you never flinched. Never turned away. You just… stayed. And for that? I promise to be your steady hand when you feel lost. Your home when you feel far away. Your loudest laughter, your quietest hug. For all our days."
The officiant smiled and extended her hands between us. "The rings, please."
The best man handed me her ring, Lydia brought mine to her, and we slipped them on—fingers trembling, but eyes never wavering.
"Then by the authority vested in me by the Interstellar Union of Civil Services and the good people of this ship and all those bearing witness, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
And then came the words I had been waiting for.
"You may now kiss."
I didn't wait.
I stepped forward and cupped her face in my hands. Her skin was warm, her cheeks wet with tears. I kissed her—and it was like the entire chapel held its breath. Like the stars above us leaned in to watch.
When we finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, I could feel both of us smiling.
Then the chapel erupted. Cheers, claps, whoops—and, of course, Lydia shouting, "About damn time!"
We turned to face the crowd, our hands firmly laced together, and took our first steps forward as husband and wife. As we walked back down the aisle, I wasn't thinking about how far we'd come. I was thinking about how far we still had to go—and how grateful I was that she'd be with me every step of the way.