The evening air was crisp, the garden illuminated by soft, twinkling lights. The gentle hum of the wedding inside faded as I stepped onto the dew-kissed grass. Emily—or the woman who looked like her—stood among the roses, her back turned to me, lost in thought.
“Lily, stay with Aunt Sarah for a moment,” I whispered to my daughter, whose innocent eyes were filled with confusion. She nodded, sensing the urgency in my voice, and scampered back inside.
I approached with caution, my heart a turbulent mix of hope and disbelief. Memories flooded back: Emily’s laughter, her gentle touch, the promises we made. Could it really be her? Was this some cruel trick of the light, or had the universe played a card beyond understanding?
