Then, from her small clutch, she pulled out a single white envelope. No name, no decoration—just plain and sealed. She placed it gently into my hand, but her touch felt almost heavy, as if she was handing over more than paper.

“Give this to Leo,” she said quietly. “After the ceremony. Not before. Not during. After.”

My heart skipped, thudding in my chest.
“Amy, sweetheart… are you okay? Just wedding nerves?”

But she shook her head slowly, her eyes distant. “He needs to hear this from you. It has to be you.”

The way she said it… not dramatic. Not emotional. Just… final. As if this decision had been made long before I stepped into that room. As if this moment was merely the last box to check.

I turned the envelope over in my hand, hesitating.

“What’s in it?” I asked carefully.

Amy didn’t reply. She just gave me the faintest nod—like someone acknowledging a passing breeze—and slipped out, the long train of her gown trailing behind her like a shadow.

I stood there alone, staring at the envelope. It didn’t feel like much—light, barely there, maybe one or two sheets of paper inside. No markings. No hints of anything sinister.

But my stomach knotted all the same.

Something told me that whatever was written inside… would change everything.