Everything was ready by ten that morning. The ceremony was set for noon in our backyard, under a white arch draped in pale pink roses. My mother’s wedding dress hung on the back of her bedroom door, its lace sleeves catching the sunlight.

Then, sometime between ten and eleven, she was gone.

No one saw her leave.

When my aunt went upstairs to tell her the photographer had arrived, the room was empty. The dress was gone from its hanger. Her purse and keys were missing, but her phone was still on the nightstand.