“Emma,” I said gently, kneeling beside her. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
She lifted her head. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. I held up the note.
“What did you mean by this?”
“I can’t tell you everything. But I heard Daddy talking on the phone yesterday. He said things… about you.”
“What kind of things?”
“He said things… about you.”
“He said your name a lot. And he sounded… worried.”
“Worried how?”
“Like he was hiding something.”
My heart began racing at this point. “Did he say he didn’t love me?”
“No. But he didn’t sound happy either.”
I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.
“Emma, did you hear anything else?”
“Like he was hiding something.”
She shook her head. “I heard your name and that he was afraid. Then he got quiet and went into his office.”
Afraid. The word echoed in my head.
I leaned in, gently pressing, “Sweetie, are you sure that’s all you heard? Can you tell me anything else?”
She avoided my eyes. Then, without a word, she got up and ran down the hall.
I sat there in a daze, the note still crumpled in my hand. The silence left behind was deafening.
“I heard your name and that he was afraid.”
What was I supposed to do? I could call Mark. Confront him right now.
But what if it was nothing? What if I ruined our wedding day over a misunderstanding?
Or what if it was something?
My breath finally came back in short, shaky gulps. I thought about all the moments we’d shared. The laughter. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world.
That couldn’t all be fake. Could it?
What if I ruined our wedding day over a misunderstanding?
I picked up my phone. My finger hovered over Mark’s name. Then I put the phone down.
No, I’d go through with the ceremony. I’d watch him. And if something felt wrong, I’d know.
I had to trust my instincts.
I stood up and picked up my wedding dress. My hands were still shaking, but I forced myself to put it on.
When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked like a bride. But I felt like I was walking into a trap.
I had to trust my instincts.
The church was beautiful. White flowers everywhere. Soft music was playing. Sunlight was streaming through the stained-glass windows. I stood at the back of the aisle, my dad’s arm looped through mine.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway.
The music changed. The doors opened.
And then I saw Mark. He was standing at the altar, looking at me with so much love in his eyes that I almost forgot about the note entirely. Almost.
I stood at the back of the aisle, my dad’s arm looped through mine.
As I walked down the aisle, I kept replaying Emma’s words, “He’s lying to you.”
But Mark didn’t look like a man who was lying. His eyes were shining. His smile was genuine.
When I reached the altar, he took my hand and whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
Emma sat in the front pew, watching me. Her face was pale and nervous. I gave her a small smile. She didn’t smile back. The ceremony began. The officiant talked about love and commitment.
“He’s lying to you.”
Mark said his. I said mine. We exchanged rings. He kissed me, and everyone clapped.
But the doubt was still there, gnawing at me.
I couldn’t focus at the reception. People kept coming up to congratulate me. My mom hugged me. My friends took pictures. I smiled and laughed, pretending everything was fine. But inside, I was unraveling.
I kept watching Mark, searching for signs. But all I saw was a man who looked happy.
I couldn’t focus at the reception.
Finally, during a quiet moment, he pulled me aside.
“Hey, are you okay? You seem distracted.”
The truth rose up before I could stop it, spilling from my lips. “Emma gave me a note this morning. She told me not to marry you. She said you were lying to me.”
Mark’s eyes widened in disbelief. “WHAT?”
I pulled the crumpled note from my purse and handed it to him.
