When the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” the room stayed silent. No applause. No smiles. Just an awkward stillness that hung in the air like something broken.
My father leaned in, his expression flat, like he was signing a contract rather than celebrating a marriage. Chloe turned her face slightly, letting him kiss her cheek instead of her lips.
It didn’t feel like a wedding.
It felt staged. Hollow. Wrong.
Just three months earlier, Chloe and I had been planning our future together.
She was everything I could have hoped for—beautiful, kind, and someone I trusted completely. When she said yes to marrying me, I thought I had won at life.
Everything felt perfect.
Until she vanished.
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