The flowers.
The music.
And the front row I’d kept glancing toward.
Hoping.
Waiting.
“I saved you a seat,” I whispered.
Lily looked up.
“What?”
“At our wedding. I asked them to leave one chair empty.”
Her face crumpled.
“Even though Dad said I wasn’t coming?”
I nodded.
“I thought you might change your mind.”
She covered her mouth.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Lily began crying.
Not loudly.
Just quietly, like someone who’d been holding something painful for years.
“I thought nobody wanted me there.”
I reached toward her.
Stopped.
Then asked, “May I?”
She nodded.
I held her.
And she held me back.
I don’t know how long we stood there.
But when Lily finally let go, I knew I couldn’t go home with Sam.
He had spent eight years keeping us apart.
I couldn’t spend another night pretending we were still the same couple.
