The reception hall buzzed with celebration, but Jonathan Hale barely heard any of it. He sat at table seventeen, tucked away in the corner where the lights grew dimmer and the laughter felt distant. In his hands rested a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, untouched, forgotten—much like Jonathan himself felt at gatherings like these.
Around him, the wedding celebration unfolded with the kind of effortless joy that seemed to belong to everyone else. Glasses clinked together in rhythmic toasts. The dance floor filled with couples swaying to familiar songs. Children darted between tables, their laughter cutting through the music like tiny bells. The DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing another tradition with infectious enthusiasm.