Six months after that cookout, Amber stood in her childhood bedroom, the lace of her wedding gown cool against her skin. The ceremony was a small, intimate affair in her father’s garden, the very place they’d met. As she said her vows, looking into Steve’s earnest face, a profound sense of peace settled over her. This was it. A future, solid and real, with a man who cherished her. The ghosts of her past heartbreaks finally seemed to recede.

Later that night, in the quiet of their new home, the last of the guests long gone, Amber’s heart felt impossibly full. She changed out of her dress into a simple silk robe, a feeling of blissful domesticity washing over her. As she walked back toward the bedroom, she heard a sound—Steve’s voice, a low, gentle murmur from within. She smiled, assuming he was on the phone with his best man.

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.