When the music started, I rose with the rest of the congregation, but I didn’t look towards the doors at the back of the church. I kept my eyes on my brother, my little brother, the man with the beard and the fancy suit, standing on his own with the icons and the altar.
His face was drawn, a crease between his brows.
Until.
The doors opened and his eyes found her. He exhaled, his shoulders eased, and a smile dissolved the tension around his eyes. My smile mirrored his and my eyes filled at the love in his face.
She joined him there and they joined hands and she joined our family.
This is what marriage is about. I am so grateful I was there to witness it.
Imperfect Happiness 
I like the way you wrote the opening paragraph. Set’s up the why that has to be answered.
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Thank you, alphabetstory!
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