DON’T GO FAR.

Around 7pm is when I can expect a good morning text from Kaye. At least it's morning for her. She's just starting her day in Maryland while I just finished eating dinner here in Iloilo. We ask each other the same things every time: how are you doing? What did you do today? Is Mila awake yet? Wanna chat? Ordinary questions that could be answered the same exact way every day and we'd still find them interesting. Same warm excitement, same shared language that would leave others who don't know us clueless. Same routine of filling each other in on what's happening on the opposite side of the world with video calls and photos and screenshots.

Twelve time zones apart and yet we don't have to go far to find our way back to each other.

It was about an hour of watching the storm clouds roll in before the rain actually came down — right as the call was made. Kris and most of the guests were already upstairs at the penthouse of our apartment building — so was I — when he called Kaye, and together they decided: everything had to move inside. She was all dressed and waiting downstairs inside our apartment with our mom. Some uncles, cousins and friends rushed to carry chairs inside. This kind of unexpected plan change would make other brides stress out, but not my sister. She's the kind of person who knows the value of letting go of things you can't control, staying calm and trusting things will work themselves out in the way they're meant to. I was updating Kaye of the changes as they were happening. I was tasked with making sure everything was ready for her to come up. I made sure the DJ played the song on time for her to walk to. I only started taking photos when the ceremony began. The guests were overall patient and understanding, even after waiting for over an hour. Some of the uncles and cousins got really soaked helping move the chairs inside. My mom had to bring up towels and a hair dryer. The sound of heavy raindrops splatting against the pavement outside confirmed that it wasn't going to stop any time soon.

I'm standing in line next to Kris' sister, Edel, waiting for the ceremony to start. Ilia, Kris and Edel's mom, had organized all the family members from both the bride and groom's sides to walk in like a procession. The elevator door dings and opens to my sister and our dad. Kris is further ahead in line so he can't see her. She's glowing with a smile that wouldn't have told you she just rearranged her vision of her wedding day because of the storm. She signals at me with a look that she's ready. The DJ presses a button on his laptop for the song to start. And within seconds it hits my ears: it's the wrong song. Kaye's eyebrows furrow and she's thinking the same thing I am. I pop my head out from around the corner to catch his attention. The elevator door slowly starts to close. Someone downstairs must have pressed the button to call it down. I reach over to hit the button before I look at the DJ again. I mouth "wrong song!" over and over, and he looks back at me confused. I speed walk toward him as fast as I could manage in heels and a floor length dress. The last thing this chaotic day needs is the bride's sister's embarrassing fall to draw attention to anyone else besides the bride. I point to the right title on his laptop screen and hurry back into formation. The elevator door opens again and I give my sister a reassuring look: problem solved, you ready? She smiles and giggles a bit. I let out a breath. At least everything fell into place by then.

The chaotic atmosphere settles down when the procession starts. The groom first, and then family members from both sides making their way in. Edel's youngest daughter and son as flower girl and ring bearer. Her older kids holding a Bible and a candle. After Edel and I walk in, I pick up my camera. I channel some of that calmness that Kaye exuded to step into full photographer mode. I look around at the guests anticipating the bride's entrance. Guests from both sides mingle amongst themselves, smiling at one another and waving hi to the babies in the crowd. Maybe moving the ceremony indoors created the closeness that invites strangers to become friends. Now that I'm behind the camera, the only thing I need to focus on is capturing my sister's day. The candid moments, the emotion, the details that only her sister could know she would want to remember. I observe the quality of the lighting, the sense of space I have to work with, the almost minuscule movements that say more than a forced pose could. Kaye and our dad walk in, both wearing beaming smiles.

I was sitting at the table closest to the sweethearts table, my mom and dad to my left, and our two good friends on my right. Kaye and Kris' table is to my left. After dinner, I get up from my seat and start setting up for photos of them cutting the cake. I baked it for them. Kaye loves lemon flavored desserts and their Seville-inspired wedding color palette features yellow and blue. So their wedding cake is lemon flavored with cream cheese frosting, topped with lemon curd and fresh blueberries. I snap moments of them holding the knife, cutting into the cake, and feeding each other bites and smiling.

In between all that, I recall the video that Kris recorded of their proposal from the previous September. He was down on one knee in the Plaza de España in Seville, in front of Kaye, who was wearing the same big joyful smile I'm photographing now. They shared the news with my mom, dad and I while they were still in Spain — we video chatted. My parents were in North Carolina at the time and I was at home in Kaye's and my apartment. A mix of emotions came up for me in that moment. Genuine happiness for my best friend. And the room I was standing in somehow feeling emptier.

I was standing in the kitchen and looking at the living room. At a space we hung out together in every day. Decorated with cozy furniture, her plants, and my photography prints on the wall. And I thought about what's not going to live in this space anymore. She wouldn't actually move out til the following May but still. I think I was starting to take account of what was hers and what was mine, when for most of our lives, it was all just ours.

I blink myself back into the present, and I press the shutter just in time. What I thought was going to be another photo of Kaye feeding Kris a bite of cake turns into her quickly pulling back her fork and giving him a kiss instead. She laughs with the victory of catching him by surprise, and he seems to fight back a laugh with his own smile.

The song they chose for their first dance was Selena's "I Could Fall in Love." It was more tender than a formally choreographed routine — simply them swaying back and forth with their arms around each other. Photographing a dance is much more difficult indoors with low lighting, so I leaned into the soft image quality and focused on capturing the feeling. Sometimes I'm so in the zone that I realize I'm assessing a moment instead of witnessing it. So I do. I lower the camera for a moment and just watch them, with a smile. And my thoughts drift. I don't think either of us could have predicted two years ago how much our paths would change. But one thing we've always been sure of is how they would still be connected to each other. Kaye and Kris continue to sway, and I see both of them have their eyes closed, as if they've drifted somewhere only they know. I take a few more photos of them. That was the feeling I was hoping to capture.

Later on in the evening, the DJ plays an upbeat salsa. Kris leads Kaye out on the dance floor and I reach for my camera. They move together and he twirls her and she laughs. My camera's up to my face, and in between shots I'm whooping and laughing. They lean into each other briefly as if to whisper something. Then Kris looks at me. I'm still in photographer mode. He points to me and in a playful tone says, "don't go far!" I lower the camera slightly, not quite following. A beat, and then — wait, does he mean I get to dance with Kaye too? They start heading toward me, Kris' arm already holding out Kaye's hand, and then it clicks.

A first dance as husband and wife, a dance between father and daughter, a mother and son dance. Those are essential to have at a wedding. It never occurred to me that I'd get to have a dance with my best friend too.

I set down the camera and reach for my sister, her hands in mine. And I feel my smile stretch all the way to my ears. I lead her through a few salsa basics and a twirl. And it's like we're little girls again. And what's more, there's a little girl in Kaye's belly, dancing along with us too.

I was scared that I would be left behind and alone. This is probably the first time I've actually written that down. I don't want my feelings to be twisted into something that makes me seem selfish, or that I don't want my sister's dreams to come true. Of course I want that for her, that and even more. Looking back now, it was never that I was being left behind or replaced or losing my best friend. Our bond was simply making room for more people to love. Welcoming Kris in. Welcoming Mila in.

I didn't have to wait long for proof of that. The next morning, we go out for brunch at a cafe a few blocks from the apartment. We make our way there in an entourage of 10+ people, not unusual for Filipinos. As we walk, Kaye and Kris mention that they just stayed up late last night talking about their whole wedding journey. The courthouse ceremony and pizza for lunch two days before. The beautiful celebration with family and friends that a thunderstorm couldn't mess up in the end. Everyone involved who showed up for them. Kaye mentions one question they asked each other — something like, who do you think was there for us the most? And Kris chimes in with a smile during the retelling, saying something like, "Yeah, B was the real MVP." They listed out different things I did for them, and a warmth rises in my chest.

On my laptop screen is Kaye sitting on the couch, with Mila in her lap and finishing her bottle. As Kaye tells me about her plans for the day ahead, I think about how I still haven't wrapped my head around her morning being my evening. And Kris' words from the wedding surface. They feel funny to me now because I've managed to go as far as I possibly could have, twelve time zones away. But Kaye and I still reach for each other. In the jokes where she holds Mila out to the screen so I can give her Tita B kisses, or when she sends me vlog-style videos of her grocery hauls.

Her good morning text appears on my screen, letting me know she's awake.

Don't go far.

Don't worry, I'm still here.