She pushed the door open softly, a playful greeting on her lips, but the words died in her throat. The scene before her was jarringly wrong.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back to her. The room was empty. There was no phone in his hand. He was speaking to the vacant space beside him.

“You would have loved her dress, Stace. It was… she looked like an angel,” he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion so raw it made the air in the room feel thin. “The day was perfect. I just… God, I wish you were here to see it. I hope you’re not mad at me for being this happy.”

A cold dread, sharp and immediate, seized Amber. Stace? Who is Stace? Is he… is he unwell? For a terrifying second, the man she had just married felt like a complete stranger. The stable future she had so vividly imagined fractured into a thousand pieces. Was this the secret he’d been holding back? A mind unmoored by some hidden trauma?