Willow Rosenberg stood in front of a full-length mirror. Even at 43 years old, her friends still said she radiated beauty as she adjusted the delicate lace veil that fell softly over her red hair, which began to gray in subtle streaks.
She couldn't help but smile, not because of the dress-which was sleek, elegant, and perfect for her wedding tomorrow-but because of the warmth and joy that had filled her heart these past few days. For the first time in a while, she was deeply, truly happy, and in less than twenty-four hours, she would be married.
Still, on the eve of her wedding, with everyone else and even her fiancée celebrating downstairs, Willow was drawn to the quiet. Her fingers absently brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist, a simple delicate piece that she hadn't worn in years.
After all, it had belonged to her.
She hadn't meant to wear it today. It had after all been tucked away in her dresser for so long, but while getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, her hand had slipped into that old wooden drawer in her apartment. She couldn't ignore the pull, the memories that had surfaced so strongly when she held it again. And so she had slipped it on without thinking, letting the weight of her past rest against her skin.
Willow sat down at the edge of the bed, the room softly lit by the late evening sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her gaze moved to the window, where the last orange and pink hues of the sunset painted the sky, and her thoughts drifted back in time to Tara.
Tara Maclay. Even now, just thinking her name still stirred emotions so deep, Willow sometimes wondered if she'd ever truly let go. There had been other loves and women after Tara, women like Kennedy and Lake, and she had loved them fully, with her whole heart.
But there was something about Tara, something about the way she had loved Willow-gently, with endless patience, with a kind of acceptance Willow had never known before or since.
She closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. She could almost feel Tara's soft presence beside her, the warmth of her arms wrapping around her, the way her voice would soothe away Willow's insecurities with a few whispered words. The love they'd shared had been unlike anything else-pure, untainted by the darkness and monsters that often surrounded Sunnydale.
A soft breeze fluttered the curtains, and Willow swore, just for a moment, she could smell that familiar mix of incense and vanilla that always clung to Tara. It was like a sign from the universe, giving her one last moment to reflect, to say goodbye, and maybe just to say thank you.
Opening her eyes, she found herself speaking aloud, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Tara… I miss you."
There is no answer, of course. But that didn't stop the flood of memories: the way Tara had smiled shyly at her the first time they'd met in the Wicca group, how their hands had brushed when casting their first spell together. The steps they'd taken toward each other, how Tara had been there when Willow had needed her the most, her steady, unwavering love pulling Willow back from the brink of darkness. At least temporarily.
"You'd like her, you know."
Willow soon looked down to her fingers as she toyed with the silver bracelet on her wrist.
"My fiancée. She's… well, she's nothing like you. She is loud, she likes to talk with her hands, and she is so fiery. But she's kind and made me laugh in a way I didn't think I could anymore. You'd like her."
She felt a pang of guilt that sprung throughout her chest. She knew that Tara wouldn't have wanted that. She would have wanted Willow to be happy, to move on, to live her life without regret. But some parts of grief never fully go away, no matter how much time passes.
Her chest tightened as she thought back to the moment she lost Tara. The crack of the gun, the way Tara had smiled one last time before crumpling to the floor. It had been so quick, so sudden, like a flame snuffed out in the wind. Willow had never truly recovered from that but she had learned to live with it, to move forward, but the pain of that moment, the ache of losing her, still lingered in her heart even twenty-two years later.
She felt the tears begin to spill from her eyes and soon quickly wiped it away.
"I'm sorry you didn't get to see this. That we get to be happy longer. But I guess it's silly to think you're watching me now, huh? But maybe, somewhere you know that I'm okay."
The silence in the room felt heavy now, like a presence all its own. But it wasn't oppressive. It was soft, and comforting, like the silence they used when they'd curl up together, words unnecessary, the bond between them enough.
Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the door which broke Willow's reverie, and she turned, wiping away the single tear that had fallen down her cheek. Buffy's head peeked through the doorway, her blonde hair catching the last bit of sunset.
"Hey, everything okay in here?"
Seeing her best friend and maid of honor, Willow smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. Just… taking a minute."
Buffy stepped into the room her eyes falling on the bracelet. She recognized it immediately and gave Willow a soft, understanding smile.
"Thinking about her?"
Willow nodded as she let out she let a little sigh.
"Yeah, I guess I couldn't help it."
Buffy sat beside her on the bed, placing a comforting hand on Willow's.
"I think it's good that you still think about her. You never really stop loving someone like that."
Willow soon looked at her in agreement.
"No, you don't."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the way old friends could before Buffy squeezed her hand.
"You ready for tomorrow?"
Willow nodded, a warm smile spreading across her face.
"Yeah. I really am."
As Buffy left the room, Willow stood and walked back to the mirror, adjusting her veil one last time. She caught sight of the bracelet again and, after a moment's hesitation, decided to leave it on.
"I will always love you, Tara. But I think I'm ready to keep going now."
She could almost imagine Tara smiling at her from somewhere far away, her blue eyes full of pride and love. With a final glance out the window at the setting sun, Willow turned and walked out of the room, ready to step into her future, knowing that Tara, in some small way, would always be with her.