She stands at the alter, her head held high while trying not to cry. Her soon-to-be husband stands across from her. Their eyes are locked and everybody can feel the amount of love circling between them.

He takes her hands in his and begins to recite his vows, and halfway through some stray tears tumble down her cheeks. She still looks beautiful, though.

Once he finishes, she begins her vows. They’re gorgeous, just like her, and I try my hardest not to imagine myself in her fiancé’s position.

She ends her vows with a clear, “I love you,” and then they kiss. It’s simultaneously the most happy yet sad moment I’ve ever experienced. Happy because it brings me joy to see her so content, but sad because I wish it was me who stood across from her.

The two of them turn to face their wedding guests once the passionate kiss ends, and that is the moment I can almost see their future.

I see their honeymoon: a warm paradise where they spend their days on the beach and evenings dining at expensive restaurants.

I see them buying their first home as newlyweds. It’s small but it’s the start of the rest of their lives together.

And I see them in a hospital, her small frame laying in the white hospital bed holding a newborn baby: their baby.

It’s everything I could’ve wanted with her: marriage, a home, a family, but I know it isn’t mine. I open my eyes and see them smiling at each other like they’re the only two people in the universe.

“She’ll be a great mother.”