It stung. But when Daniel smiled at me, nothing else mattered.

Halfway through the reception, after our first dance — him spinning me from his wheelchair with surprising grace — Daniel took the microphone.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I hope you’re ready.”

I frowned, curious. Then his brother stepped out from the crowd, walked over, and offered him his arm.

The room fell silent.

Daniel gripped his brother’s arm and, with visible effort, began to rise. Slowly, shakily, he stood. My breath caught in my throat. He swayed for a moment, then took a step. Then another. His eyes never left mine.

Every person in the room was frozen in disbelief.

“I promised I’d do this for you,” he whispered when he reached me, tears glistening in his eyes. “Just once — on my own two feet. Because you believed in me when no one else would.”

In that moment, the pity in the room vanished, replaced by awe and love. People were openly crying. My own tears blurred my vision as I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arms around him, holding him like never before.