“No, no! Baby, please don’t do this to me!” Minho murmured over and over, like a mantra.  Like a spell that would keep her alive.   Just a little bit longer. 

She didn’t answer, of course.  How could she?  She was in a drug-induced sleep on the bed, chest rising and falling.  Her face was so pale, and her hands were so cold. 

After receiving the call from the doctor, Minho rushed to the hospital, desperate to see her before the emergency surgery.  He was too late, and when he arrived, the doctor wouldn’t let him in to see her until they’d moved her out of the recovery room.  They had moved her now, from her old comfortable room with the yellow walls to a white, stainless steel room in the ICU. 

The ICU. 

Those words had struck the deepest kind of fear into Minho.  A fear so real that he had been trying to stifle for the past few months.  The fear that she was really dying.   It was really going to happen.

He didn’t want to wrap his mind around it. 

But now, here he was, sitting at her bedside once again, holding her cold, cold hand in his, begging her to wake up. 

“You know I can’t do this without you.  I need you to be here with me!” he cried, tears trickling down his cheeks and onto the crisp, white sheets.   

His grief was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.  Startled, he looked up to see the nurse from her previous room.   “She made one request before we put her under for the surgery,” she told him quietly, her eyes portraying her grief for his situation. 

Minho hurriedly wiped his eyes and sniffed, “What was it?”

“She wanted another story,” the nurse said.  “One about your wedding.”

Her words hit Minho like a punch to the gut.  Their wedding.  The wedding they hadn’t had, and now might not have.  He tried not to think about the ring he had at his apartment, hidden in the bedside table.  The ring he was going to give her before things had gone bad. 

“Than-Thank you,” he muttered, turning back to the quiet form of his girlfriend.  After he heard the nurse leave again, he whispered to her unmoving form, “Is that true?  Did you really want to marry me?”

There was no response, and Minho reached up and her cheek lovingly.  “If that’s what you wanted, I’ll tell it to you now.”  

When the opening chords sounded, the sight of her took Minho’s breath away.  

She was so beautiful.  Indescribably beautiful.  Her hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders, and her dress was the perfect bridal gown.  Form-fitting at the top and swinging out to a voluminous skirt.  The veil that covered her face was the most delicate lace, and Minho had to try hard to keep a huge, silly grin from splitting his face. 

Her walk down the aisle felt like forever, and Minho’s heartbeat sped up with every step she took. 

She was so close now.  They were so close to his ultimate dream.  She was going to be his forever. 

As the priest announced the ceremony, going through the necessary speeches, they stared into each other’s eyes.  Minho couldn’t believe this was actually happening.  

“Do you, Choi Minho, take this girl to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” 

He meant both of those words from the bottom of his heart.  Words alone could not express the love he felt for this girl.  She said the same, and she meant them just as much.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

When their lips met, he found himself never wanting them to part.  He was over-joyed, and he could tell from her face that she felt the same way. 

“I love you,” he said forcefully when they pulled back, to the applause of the guests. 

“I love you too.”