[A/N]: Torpe is a story I wrote around a year ago. It’s a two-part story focusing first on the girl’s point-of-view, followed by the guy’s point of view. My brother (perhaps my only fan  not even a fan) absolutely loves this story, so I’m posting it for him, and for you guys. Enjoy!


For the 18 years that I’ve known him, that’s the perfect description of his entirety.

But I was already here, in the most beautiful dress I could ever imagine, surrounded by all my loved ones, in a place I could only dream of.

Walk steady, I told myself, nothing to be scared about. It’s just the start of the end of your life. I let out a small smile as I walked towards my soon-to-be husband. He stood at the altar, smiling.

I looked to my right and I saw him. Mr. Torpe.

I tried to ignore him. I had come this far. I had mustered up all my strength to just forget about him. There’s no way I’m falling back into him. I travelled through hell and back just trying to forget him. No way I’m going back there.

I faced the altar beside my loving fiancée, but I couldn’t see him or make out the words coming out from the priest. All I could see was him, staring at me from behind. All I could hear were my thoughts about how much I wanted him.

“If anyone thinks that these two should not be wed…”

Come on.

“…Speak now or forever hold your piece.”

Say it.


Last chance…

“Then by the power vested in me…”

I tried to hold it back, but tears slowly filled up in my eyes. The sunlight from the window pane shone on my eyes, gently reflecting the tears I tried so hard to hold back.

I guess he wasn’t being Torpe all these years. It really just wasn’t meant to be.



It’s just a word, a word that turned into my philosophy in life.

I was already here, and there was no turning back. At a distance, I could see her, as beautiful as ever, in the most elegant dress.

Stop shaking, I told myself, it’s not like you’re the one getting married. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I looked at the soon-to-be husband. He stood at the altar, smiling.

She was passing my row, when she turned her head and looked.

I caught her eye, trying to look for an ounce of wanting, a sign that she had feelings for me. But she quickly turned away. I couldn’t blame her. I wasted all this time. 18 years. But I’m here to try and change that.

All the guests were shadows to me, faceless, lifeless mannequins. All I could make out was her. And though I wanted to shake the fact that she was getting married, I couldn’t.

“If anyone thinks that these two should not be wed…”

This is it, Mark.

“…Speak now or forever hold your piece.”

Now or never.



“Then by the power vested in me…”

“Wait, Stop!” I tried to say, but it ended up being eaten by the wind. My voice forbade me to say those words. My voice or my subconscious.

I looked at her and from the altar, I could see her perfectly. Her eyes glistened in the sunlight, sparkling with utmost joy.

I shouldn’t have even thought of ruining her special day. She clearly loves him. At least now, she’s happy. It really just wasn’t meant to be.


Trivia: Just to add some trivia to what you just read, both POVs have exactly the same number of words in them. 😉

5 responses to “Torpe

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