Best Man

I gave the best man speech with my ex sitting in the front row.

My best mate, Ollie, got married in October. A beautiful venue, a barn with fairy lights, an open bar I took a bit too seriously. I'd been dreading this day for six months. Not because of Ollie. Because of her.

Her name was Nina. Bridesmaid. Chosen months before we broke up. We'd agreed to "be adults about it." Which, translated, means we sat at opposite ends of the room and avoided every aisle.

Then came the speech. My hands were shaking. I reached into my jacket for my cue cards, and... nothing. Gone. Left them in the hotel room. My mind went white. Two hundred people staring.

Someone tapped my elbow.

Nina. Standing behind me, in a green dress, holding a folded sheet of paper.

"I printed it," she whispered. "From our shared doc. Still had access."

I'd written the speech months ago, back when we were together. She'd read every draft, laughed at every joke, rewritten the weak ones.

I took the paper, barely breathing, and began to read. The jokes landed. The crowd laughed. Ollie wiped his eyes.

Then I reached the last line. One I didn't remember writing.

"To the people who stay, even when it's hard."

I looked up. She was already back in her seat, staring at her hands.

I stuffed the page in my pocket afterwards.

I checked later.

The final line was in her handwriting.