They turned to face their small, fierce congregation. Outside, a car honked. A child on a bicycle stared through the window, then grinned.

The air in the small civil registry office was thick with jasmine. Not from a bouquet, but from the tree climbing the wall outside the open window, its white petals drifting onto the marble floor like confetti.

For a second, no one moved. Then Javier let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and pulled Mateo into a kiss. It was not a chaste, ceremonial peck. It was a real kiss—the kind that said I remember the fear, the waiting, the nights I thought I’d lose you. And now look at us.

“Por lo tanto, ante la ley y ante quienes aquí se congregan… en ejercicio de las facultades que me confiere la Constitución y la Ley de Matrimonio Igualitario…”

She smiled. “Have you come here freely, without coercion, to bind your lives together?”