Relatives buzzed everywhere. My mom fussed with flowers. Mark’s sister ran around with last-minute errands.
I stood in my bedroom in my robe, staring at my wedding dress hanging on the closet door.
It was beautiful. Ivory lace with delicate beading.
The moment I’d been dreaming of was finally here, and my heart felt full in a way I’d never known.
Mark and I’d agreed not to see each other before the ceremony. We wanted that romantic moment at the altar.
So he got ready in the guest room, and I stayed in our bedroom.
I was standing in front of the mirror, holding my dress, when the door opened.
Emma walked in.
She looked anxious. Her face was pale. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.
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