The chapel doors are heavy, and for a second the world holds its breath. Flowers line every pew. Soft light filters through tall windows. The murmur of seated guests fades the moment the doors swing open and every head turns. At the far end of the aisle, Atticus stands at the altar. He hears the shift in the room before he sees you, and when he turns, something in his expression changes, quiet and certain, the way he has always looked at you. Behind you, Rosalind smooths your train and whispers something she'll deny later. Ahead, Theo catches your eye and gives one small, approving nod. The only thing left is to walk toward the man who asked you on a Tuesday and meant it completely.