The guests went completely silent.

The bride’s trembling fingers reached for the little robot.

She turned it over in her palm, and her whole body seemed to forget the ballroom around her.

“There was a boy,” she whispered. “At the hospital.”

The groom looked down at her.

“What boy?”

She didn’t answer him.

Her eyes stayed on the child in front of her.

“He used to sit beside my bed after the accident,” she said softly. “He said robots didn’t give up just because their legs broke.”

The boy’s lips trembled.

The bride looked closer at his face.

The dirt.

The tired eyes.

The scar near his eyebrow.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“No…”

The boy nodded once.

“You remembered.”

The bride began crying harder.

“They told me you died.”

He shook his head.

“They sent me away.”

The groom stepped back, confused and shaken.

The boy reached into his other pocket and pulled out a folded hospital bracelet.

The bride’s name was on one side.

His was on the other.

She stared at it like the past had just opened its eyes.

The boy whispered,

“You promised me one dance when we both got better.”

The bride looked at her legs.

Then at him.

“I never got better.”

The boy stepped closer, tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t come because you can walk.”

He held out his small hand.

“I came because you promised.”