Chapter 3

At 11:40, the red carpet walk began.

Dad stood at the banquet hall entrance, palms sweating.

He put my hand in his arm, then took it out.

"Will this tug your sleeve?"

"No."

"Walk slower later. These shoes are still stiff."

I looked down.

The toes were shiny.

For a week, he'd worn them downstairs every night, saying he needed the shoes to get to know his feet.

Before the rehearsal music started, Dad suddenly waved at Marco.

"Marco, come here."

Marco walked over.

"What is it, Uncle?"

"Later when I put her hand in yours, remember to hold it steady."

Marco smiled and took my hand.

"Don't worry. She can't run."

Dad laughed too.

"If she really runs, don't force her. Ask her why first."

"She won't have the heart to run."

Marco said it casually.

I stood beside him and heard every word.

The music started.

Dad led me forward.

When we were ten meters from the stage, a staff member suddenly raised a hand.

"Uncle Ricci, you can stop here. The rest goes to Mr. Falcone. The center stage camera is reserved for the officiant."

Dad stopped.

"I'm not walking her up?"

"You hand off at the flower gate. It looks best on camera."

Dad looked at me.

Before I could speak, Marco had already come down from the stage.

"Just follow this. The camera angles were just adjusted."

He crouched to spread my skirt.

"Don't step on it going up."

I asked, "Wasn't my dad supposed to walk me to the stage?"

"It's just a few steps less. Doesn't affect anything."

"Sal standing dead center can't lose even one step."

Marco looked up.

"He's the officiant. His position was decided long ago."

"Who decided?"

"Me."

He stood up, tone still patient.

"Sal watched me grow up. The old man is happy today. Let him stand in the middle and say a few words. What's the problem?"

Dad quickly pulled me.

"It's only ten meters. Same wherever he hands off."

Marco heard and smiled at him.

"Uncle says it's fine. Don't be nervous for him."

He took my hand, then frowned.

"Why so cold?"

He wrapped my hand in his.

"Later when Uncle gives you to me, I'll hold you the whole way."

I used to love hearing him say "I'll hold you."

Crossing the street, he'd pull me to the inside. In crowds while traveling, he'd turn back to find me. During power outages at midnight, he knew I was afraid of the dark.

Those good things were real.

And because they were real, I told myself again and again that he was just careless, just had a lot of friends, just didn't know how to prioritize.

But when it truly mattered, he never chose wrong.

The person standing further back was always me.

The rehearsal restarted.

Dad led me to the flower gate.

Marco reached out.

Dad put my hand over, but didn't let go immediately.

"Valentina's had a sharp tongue since she was little. If she's really uncomfortable..."

The staff gently reminded.

"Uncle Ricci, the camera behind is waiting for you."

Dad stopped mid-sentence.

He smiled.

"Okay."

His hand let go.

As he walked down from the side, his new leather shoe caught a black cable. His body swayed.

I instinctively turned back.

Marco held me.

"Someone's steadying him."

Dad had already caught his balance. His first reaction was to wave at me.

His lips shaped two words.

I'm fine.

Marco saw it too.

"See? Uncle's more agile than both of us."

I slowly pulled my hand out.

"Every time he says okay, you really think it's okay."

Marco didn't understand.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I walked down and crouched in front of Dad.

There was a black mark on his shoe.

I pulled out a tissue and wiped it for him.

Dad looked down at me and smiled.

"When you were little, I wiped your shoes. Now it's your turn."

"From now on it's always my turn."

"Nonsense. I'm not that old yet."

He patted my head.

I bent down and wiped off the last bit of dust.

Three months.

In my last life, counting from today, he and I only had three months left.

At that thought, my fingertips went cold.

Whatever else happened after the wedding, Dad's health couldn't wait.