Ibili isn’t your typical wedding destination. It’s a remote farmhouse nestled in the Basque countryside, where clouds hang low and the grass never quite dries. But for Ana and Victor, that isolation was the appeal. No crowds, no décor plans, no pressure—just a stone house, two witnesses, and the soft hum of wind in the trees.

The ceremony took place just after dawn, in the field behind the house. Ana wore a wool shawl over her dress, and Victor had a handwritten note tucked into his jacket. As they stood facing each other, mist curling at their feet, everything else fell away.

They exchanged rings wrapped in cloth. Victor, ever the practical one, reached for the small OTF knife he always carried—lightweight, reliable, something he’d used a hundred times on hikes. It opened the knot quickly, quietly, and was back in his pocket before most guests even noticed. It wasn’t a centerpiece, just a part of him—like the way he looked at Ana when she laughed.

After the ceremony, they served hot cider, fresh bread, and cheese aged in the cellar. Guests huddled near the fireplace, sharing stories and wool blankets. Outside, the sky never fully cleared—but somehow, it didn’t need to.

Ibili gave them a wedding without spectacle. Just a beginning, simple and grounded, exactly as they’d hoped.