“Dad?” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
He did not answer me. His face had gone pale, not with sickness, but with recognition. The kind of recognition that rises from a grave you thought was sealed.
Julian’s smile faded.
The music kept playing for a few confused seconds before the pianist stopped. Guests turned in their seats. The church became so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
My father lifted a trembling hand toward Julian.
“How can it be you?” he said, his voice breaking. “I was sure you disappeared thirty years ago.”
The words cut through the room.
I looked from my father to my fiancé, searching for a joke, a mistake, anything that could explain the impossible fear on Dad’s face.
Julian did not deny it.
Instead, he looked at me with eyes that suddenly seemed much older.
