“And do you, Rafael Pérez, take Loretta Orsini to be your lawful wife, to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
A beat of silence followed.
Then Rafael answered.
“Yes.”
The word was immediate.
As though he had been waiting for the question.
As though there had never been another possible answer.
The priest continued with the ceremony.
“May we have the rings.”
A faint rustle followed as the rings were brought forward.
“Wedding rings are a symbol of eternal love and unbroken commitment,” the priest said. “A circle with no beginning and no end, just as the vows you make today.”
I nearly laughed at the irony.
The priest guided us through the exchange.
“Rafael, place the ring on Loretta’s finger.”
A large hand closed gently around mine.
My breath caught.
His touch was firm and deliberate as he slid the ring onto my finger.
The ring was heavier than I expected, or maybe it only felt that way because I knew what it meant.
I flexed my hand once instinctively, already aware that it wasn’t something I could take off easily—not legally, not socially, not safely.
Then the priest turned to me.
“Loretta, place the ring on Rafael’s finger.”
Someone guided my hand toward his.
I felt the rough warmth of his skin before my fingers found the ring.
Slowly, I slid it onto his finger.
And just like that, the final lock clicked into place.
The priest allowed a moment to pass before continuing.
“Having witnessed their vows before God and the congregation, and by the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Husband and wife.
The title settled over us with terrifying permanence.
