**How I Accidentally Became a Wedding Witness**
If youd told me that morning that by evening Id be standing in a crisp white shirt, clutching someone elses bouquet, with a strained smile plastered on my face, swearing before a room full of strangers to always support their union, Id have laughed, tapped my temple, and carried on making my porridge while gazing peacefully at the quiet street outside. No ominous signs, no suspicious coincidencesjust an ordinary morning. But life, as it turns out, loves tossing curveballs without warning, and it does so with particular flair when youre in slippers, nursing a cup of coffee.
It all began with a simple trip to the registry office. Not for any official businessno, the best hot dog stand in town happened to be right across the street, and Id set off with the purest of intentions. The queue, the smell of fresh buns, sizzling sausages, and mustardeverything was normal. Then, out of nowhere, a sleek black car decked with ribbons and roses pulled up, gleaming like something out of a film, and a boisterous wedding party spilled onto the pavement. Laughter, applause, phone flashes, clouds of perfume, confettisuddenly, I was swept up in the chaos as if Id accidentally wandered onto the set of a festive music video.
Before I could react, one of the bridesmaidsa whirlwind in a sequinned emerald-green dressgrabbed my arm with the confidence of someone whod known me for years.
There he is! Our second witness!
I glanced behind me, half-expecting to see the actual witness. No such luck. The crowd erupted into cheers, and before I knew it, I was the centre of attention, like an understudy whod wandered onstage at the wrong moment.
Wait, Im actually just I tried, but it was too late. I was ushered inside, handed a boutonnière, and positioned next to a tall bloke in a suit so crisp he looked like hed been ironed while wearing it. He seemed just as baffled as I wasunsure whether to laugh or bolt.
Hold the bouquet, smile, the green-clad bridesmaid hissed, adjusting my boutonnière with the efficiency of someone who did this daily. Our real witness is stuck in trafficyoure saving the day. Just try not to blink like an owl in the photos.
I wanted to protest. Really, I did. My mouth was already open when the opening notes of *Here Comes the Bride* boomed through the hall, echoing grandly. The doors swung open, and like clockwork, the procession began. I was swept along with them, as if Id missed a memo about my own role in this wedding.
Honestly, it was one of the strangest moments of my life. There I was, standing beside a groom who kept fidgeting with his cufflinks and glancing at his watch like he might miss his own ceremony, and a bride who looked equal parts thrilled and terrifiedher veil trembling with every shaky breath. I didnt know their names. I wasnt even sure I was holding the bouquet correctly. Was there a proper angle? Did I look like a complete fraud?
When the registrar called the witnesses forward, I stepped upand it hit me: I was living a sitcom scene. Everyone was watching. Cameras flashed. The photographer clicked away like he was documenting a historic event. And me, the bloke whod just wanted a hot dog, was now officially part of someone elses weddingcomplete with signatures, seals, and a string quartet.
The wildest part? No one suspected a thing. Not the groom, not the bride, not the aunties in the front row dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. I signed the register, posed for photos, and even got handed a slice of cake and a glass of bubbly by the emerald bridesmaid, as if this had been the plan all along.
Cheers, you saved us! she said with a wink. If you ever need a witness, just shout. Youre one of us now.
When I finally stumbled back outside, I had a bouquet in one hand, a napkin with the bridesmaids number in my pocket, wedding music still ringing in my ears, and the distinct realisation that my quiet porridge morning had been hijacked by an impromptu rom-com. Instead of a peaceful day, Id gotten an unexpected party, a glass of champagne, and the surreal satisfaction of having accidentally starred in someone elses love story.
