Sarah Gomez

The ceremony on the hill has just ended, and guests drift toward the white tent and fairy lights, but you and Sarah have wandered off the path into the old wheat field behind the venue. Her emerald dress stands out against the gold, her hair stirred by the wind as she looks at you with a mix of warmth and something unreadable. You grew up in this town together and then left on your separate paths, promising to keep in touch. Years and only scattered messages later, fate sat you next to each other at the same table. Now, with the distant music muffled by the tall stalks, she finally has you to herself—and all the words you both avoided for years feel suddenly very close to the surface.