The grand hall buzzed with warmth and laughter, the golden glow of chandeliers casting a dreamy light over the crowd gathered for the wedding. Guests milled about, their wine glasses clinking softly as they chatted, their eyes fixed on the stage where Daniel, the groom, stood in his crisp black suit, a sheepish grin on his face. His friends, a lively bunch in tailored coats, surrounded him, tossing playful questions his way under the direction of the announcer, Mike, whose voice boomed through the microphone.
"So, Daniel," one friend said, leaning into the mic with a mischievous smirk, "remember that girl from college? The one you tried to impress with that awful poetry?" The crowd erupted in laughter, and Daniel coughed on his water glass, his face flushing as he waved a hand to quiet them.
"You guys are gonna get me killed," Daniel said, his voice half-choking, half-laughing as he set the glass down, shaking his head. "Sara's gonna hear this and have my head."
