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The morning of Colt and Cecilia's wedding dawned warm and clear, a perfect southern day in the midst of everything that had gone wrong with the world. The bright sun was a welcome contrast to the heaviness of recent weeks, as if the weather itself was offering a small blessing to the young couple. In the heart of Beaufort, people bustled around in preparation, their spirits lifted by the prospect of a celebration—something rare and precious in their new reality.
Frank stood by the small garden that had been transformed into a makeshift venue for the wedding. Rows of wooden chairs had been lined up, some salvaged from nearby homes, others crudely built by hand in the days leading up to the ceremony. Flowers—wild and scrappy, but beautiful—adorned the altar, their vibrant colors a stark reminder of life persisting even in the darkest times.
He tugged at the collar of his cleanest shirt, which still didn’t feel quite right. He hadn’t dressed up like this in what felt like forever, and part of him couldn’t believe the day had come. His son was getting married. In the middle of a world teetering on the brink of collapse, Colt had found something real, something pure.
Annie appeared beside him, looking radiant despite the stress that had been etched on her face over the last few weeks. She wore a simple dress, the soft blue fabric swaying in the light breeze. Her hair was pulled back, showing off the faint lines of worry that had settled in over time, but her smile was brighter than Frank had seen in a long time.
“He’s going to look so grown up,” Annie said softly, her eyes scanning the preparations. “Our baby boy...”
Frank smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Yeah, he’s not a baby anymore. He’s a man. I’m proud of him, Annie. Of both of them.”
The thought of Colt and Cecilia together, young, in love, and choosing hope in a world where so much seemed lost—stirred something deep inside him. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about building something, about living for more than just the next battle.
As guests started to arrive, the air filled with soft murmurs of excitement. Civilians and Marines alike gathered, dressed in their best, some even sporting freshly washed uniforms. There was an air of celebration, a reprieve from the constant tension of survival.
Cecilia’s parents had arrived first, looking both proud and emotional. Frank had noticed over the past few months how much Colt had become a part of their lives. In many ways, the young couple had given their parents something they desperately needed—hope for a future.
Near the front, George, the former mayor of Charleston, stood with a clipboard in hand, ready to officiate. His demeanor had softened considerably since his arrival in Beaufort. There was no denying the tension that had arisen between him and the Marines, but this day was different. He seemed genuinely honored to have been asked to perform the ceremony, and his usual bureaucratic frustration had been replaced by a rare warmth.
"Everything’s going smoothly," George said as Frank passed by, his voice tight with anticipation. "We’ll be starting soon."
Frank nodded, giving George a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for doing this, George. It means a lot to Colt and Cecilia, and to us.”
George’s face softened further. “It’s an honor, Frank. They’re good kids. This is something worth fighting for.”
Soon enough, it was time. The buzz of conversation quieted as the crowd took their seats. Frank stood by Colt near the altar, his son looking uncharacteristically nervous. Colt was dressed in a simple white button-up shirt, his hair combed neatly—a stark difference from his usual combat-ready appearance. Frank caught his son’s eye and grinned.
“Still time to make a run for it,” Frank joked lightly.
Colt rolled his eyes but chuckled. “I’m good, Dad. No running. This is the best thing I’ve done since this whole mess started.”
Frank’s grin widened with pride. His son was strong, level-headed, and ready for what lay ahead, not just in the fight for survival but in building a future with Cecilia.
The ceremony began as Cecilia appeared at the edge of the garden, her arm linked with her father’s. She was breathtaking, her white dress flowing softly as she walked down the aisle. It wasn’t much—just a simple gown that someone had managed to sew together in time—but on her, it was perfect. The entire crowd seemed to hold its breath as they watched her approach, her face radiant with happiness.
Colt’s eyes locked on her, and Frank could see the emotion welling up in his son. This was it—the moment they had all fought for, in some way. It wasn’t just about a wedding; it was about hope, love, and the belief that life could still hold beauty, even in a world ravaged by destruction.
When Cecilia reached the altar, Colt took her hand, his expression full of love and gratitude. George cleared his throat and began the ceremony, his voice carrying over the quiet crowd.
“We gather here today to witness the union of Colt and Cecilia, two souls who have found love in the midst of chaos, who have chosen to stand together against the darkness that surrounds us,” George began, his tone solemn but hopeful. “In times like these, love is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity. It reminds us why we fight, why we endure, and why we continue to hope.”
Frank found himself nodding in agreement. This was what they needed—a reminder of what made life worth living.
The ceremony continued, simple and heartfelt, as George led the young couple through their vows. Colt’s voice wavered slightly as he spoke, but his sincerity was undeniable.
“I promise to love you, to protect you, and to fight for our future, no matter what comes,” Colt said, his eyes locked on Cecilia’s. “We’ll face this world together.”
Cecilia’s response was just as moving. “I promise to stand by your side, through everything. We’ll build something beautiful, Colt. Something that lasts.”
When George pronounced them husband and wife, the crowd erupted in applause. Cheers and shouts of joy echoed through the garden as Colt and Cecilia kissed, sealing their vows. It was a moment of pure joy, a rare light in the darkness.
As the newlyweds made their way down the aisle, hand in hand, Frank and Annie exchanged a glance, their hearts full. They had survived so much, and now, they had something to celebrate.
For the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t about the fight. It wasn’t about survival.
It was about love.
And that, Frank thought, was worth everything.