The sound echoed. “The King” froze mid-strum. The witnesses – two hungover tourists in kangaroo costumes – looked up.

Clara stared at the fallen bell. Then at Leo. Then at her phone, now showing a calendar reminder: “Tuesday: Leo’s divorce final.”

If you'd like, I can also turn this into a poem, a script, or a short story in another tone (darker, funnier, or more romantic). Just let me know.

As “The King” cleared his throat to begin the vows (“ Love me tender, love me sweet, or get the hell out of this seat ”), Clara’s phone buzzed. Then Leo’s. Then the chapel’s landline – yes, a landline – started ringing like a fire alarm.