The next afternoon, I arrived at the wedding venue in a medical transport van, wearing a navy suit Ruth brought from my closet.
Every step hurt.
The hall was filled with white roses, gold chairs, crystal lights, and guests who believed they had come to witness love.
Clara saw me and rushed over, her face burning.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I told you not to come.”
“You invited me when you were seven,” I said. “You made me promise I’d walk you down the aisle.”
For one second, the little girl I remembered looked through her eyes.
Then Victor stepped between us.
“You should leave before security handles this,” he said.
Ruth appeared beside me.
“Security may want to wait,” she said. “There are legal matters involving attempted fraud.”
The word moved through the room like a dropped glass.
I reached into my jacket and held out an envelope.
“I brought a wedding gift,” I said.
Clara stared at it.
“Your mother’s letter.”
