I’m getting married in three days. It’s a big deal, traditional ceremony, all the bells and whistles. My fiancé’s family is really into it, my folks too, obviously. My mum keeps asking if I’m excited, if I’ve got cold feet, all that jazz. I just… nod. Smile. Say something about ‘yeah, it’s a lot to take in!’ Is that weird? Does everyone feel this pre-wedding whatever? Because what I’m feeling… it’s not really excitement. More like, ‘this is happening, I guess.’ The thing is, the vows. Man, the vows. They’re super old-school, you know? Like, promises about eternal love, spiritual union, all that sacred stuff. And I used to believe it. Really did. Back in the day, when I was younger, still had that starry-eyed thing going on. I’d picture this moment, this exact ceremony, and feel all choked up. Now? I read through the script for the rehearsal, heard the priest go over the lines, and it’s just… words. Pretty words, sure, but they don’t *mean* anything to me anymore. Not in the way they’re supposed to. It’s not even that I don’t love my fiancé. I do. He’s great. We have a good life, good laughs, we get each other’s hustle. He’s always there when a gig falls through or a client ghosts me. We’re partners, you know? Like, ‘we’ll figure it out’ partners. But this whole religious, soulmate, divinely-ordained destiny thing they’re making us say… I just don’t buy it. Not anymore. Not for a minute. I haven't been to mass in years, barely believe in a higher power beyond 'don't get hit by a bus.' My mum would have a HEART ATTACK if she knew. So I’m standing there, practicing my lines, thinking about my next freelance pitch – graphic design for a new kombucha brand, super boring – and trying to make my face look like I’m about to commit to something profound and everlasting. Like I’m not just going through the motions because everyone expects it. Because if I don’t, it’s a whole *thing*. A major letdown for two families. A massive waste of money. And my fiancé… he’d be devastated. He really believes. And I don’t want to hurt him. So I’ll say the words. I’ll make the promises. And I’ll feel like a total fraud. What’s the word? Hypocrite. Yeah. That's it. A big, fat, smiling hypocrite. My mate, Leo, he got married last year. Said he felt a bit numb during the ceremony, like an out-of-body experience. Is that what this is? Just normal pre-wedding jitters magnified by my own cynicism? Or am I just… broken? Like, missing the part of my brain that feels awe or sacredness? Dunno. All I know is, come Saturday, I’ll be standing at that altar, looking into his eyes, and repeating words I no longer believe. And no one will know. Except me. And now, you lot, I guess. It’s 2 am. I should probably try to get some sleep. Got a mock-up due tomorrow morning. Hustle never stops, even before the big day, eh?