Let Them See Me Cry

 

Mike

It was the moment Mike had dreamed of for years. Today was the day he’d finally stand before the world and speak the desires of his heart with complete honesty—the day he’d promise Vivian his vows from the deepest part of him.

They had been together nearly seven years. Vivian had been his rock through everything. When he had nothing—not a dollar to his name, not even hope—she was there. She paid the bills, kept food on the table, and held him together when life tried to tear him apart. There were nights so dark he’d thought about ending it all, nights when suicide didn’t seem like a question but an answer. But Vivian’s love—pure, steady, unshakable—became his lifeline. He often wondered what would’ve happened if she hadn’t believed in him, hadn’t stayed.

Now he stood at the altar, heart pounding, waiting for her.

He didn’t like crowds—never had—but today he didn’t care that the church was packed with people he barely knew. Friends of friends, distant cousins, coworkers; it didn’t matter. They faded into the background. The only person who existed in that moment was the woman walking toward him, the one he was about to call his wife.

He caught sight of her at the end of the aisle, and everything else disappeared.

His breath caught. His eyes filled with tears before he could stop them. How do you love someone more every single day? How does a heart keep growing when it already feels full? For Mike, loving Vivian never faded. It only deepened—like the first time he saw her, only better, stronger, truer.

She walked slowly down the aisle in her white dress, glowing like something holy, and Mike couldn’t hold it back—he cried openly, smiling through the tears like a little kid who’d just been handed the world.

His best man reached for a tissue, trying to dab his eyes discreetly.

Mike gently pushed his hand away and laughed through the tears.

“Let them see,” he said, voice thick with joy. “Let them see me cry. These aren’t sad tears. Today, even heaven’s celebrating.”

The best man smiled, nodded, and stepped back.

As Vivian reached him, radiant and steady, Mike couldn’t wait any longer. He turned to the officiant, gently took the microphone from his hand, and began to sing—voice trembling, but strong with love—the words that said everything he felt:

“For all those times you stood by me

For all the truth that you made me see

For all the joy you brought to my life

For all the wrong that you made right

For every dream you made come true

For all the love I found in you

I’ll be forever thankful, baby

You’re the one who held me up

Never let me fall

You’re the one who saw me through, through it all…”

Vivian froze the instant Mike’s voice filled the church.

She had expected vows, maybe a shaky “I love you,” but never this—her fiancé pouring out Céline Dion like the song had been written for them alone. The guests gasped, then fell silent. Even the officiant stepped back with a small, knowing smile.

She reached the front of the aisle and stopped inches from him. Tears streamed down Mike’s face—unashamed, unstoppable. For a moment she could only stare, bouquet trembling in her hands, her own eyes already shining. 

She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but Mike gently pressed a finger to her lips, shook his head, and kept singing, voice cracking with every word that belonged to her:

You were my strength when I was weak

You were my voice when I couldn’t speak

You were my eyes when I couldn’t see

You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach

You gave me faith ’cause you believed

I’m everything I am

Because you loved me…

When the last note faded, the church was so quiet they could hear each other breathing.

Vivian’s tears spilled over. She didn’t try to stop them.

Mike lowered the microphone, took both her hands, and whispered—just for her, though half the room still heard it:

“Seven years ago I had nothing but darkness. You gave me a reason to see tomorrow. These aren’t just lyrics, Viv. They’re my truth. You saved me. And today I get to spend the rest of my life proving I was worth saving.”

Then he smiled through the tears and said, loud enough for everyone this time:

“So yeah… I do. Forever.”

The place erupted—cheers, applause, grown men wiping their eyes—but Vivian didn’t hear any of it. She was already in his arms, laughing and crying all at once, whispering the only words she could manage:

“I do too, baby. Always.”

Later that night, the reception long over, they finally slipped away to their hotel suite (technically their first night as husband and wife).

Mike kicked the door shut behind them, scooped Vivian up, and carried her laughing over the threshold straight to the king-size bed draped in rose petals. He laid her down gently, eyes dark with seven years of wanting, and leaned in to kiss her like the world was ending.

She pressed a hand to his chest and stopped him cold.

Mike blinked. “Baby… what’s wrong?”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. “You didn’t finish the song at the church, husband. I believe you still owe me the rest.”

He let his head fall dramatically onto her shoulder. “You’re kidding me right now.”

“Nope.” She bit her lip, eyes dancing. “You started something in front of three hundred people. Least you can do is finish it in private.”

“Viv, come on,” he groaned, half-laughing, half-pleading. “Junior’s been waiting seven years too. Have a heart.”

She arched a brow. “Tell Junior that Mama needs the full Céline experience first. Then we’ll talk.”

Mike stared at her for two full seconds, saw she wasn’t bluffing, and let out the most theatrical sigh in history.

“Fine. You win, woman.” He sat up on the edge of the bed, still in his half-unbuttoned tux shirt, and started singing again—soft, husky, a little teasing, but every word meant only for her.

You gave me wings and made me fly

You touched my hand I could touch the sky

I lost my faith, you gave it back to me

You said no star was out of reach

You stood by me and I stood tall

I had your love—I had it all

I’m grateful for each day you gave me

Maybe I don’t know that much

But I know this much is true

I was blessed because I was loved by you…

He kept going—every verse, every chorus—until the final, quiet:

I’m everything I am…

Because you loved me. 

When the last note settled in the air, the room was silent except for their breathing.

Vivian’s eyes were glassy. She reached up, pulled him down by his open collar, and kissed him slow and deep.

“There,” she whispered against his lips. “Now Junior can have his turn.”

Mike laughed into the kiss, voice rough with love and relief. “Took you long enough, Mrs. Anderson.”

She grinned. “Worth the wait, Mr. Anderson. Always.”

And somewhere between laughter and tears, the rose petals got ruined in the very best way.

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