A sign near the entrance read:
CAROLINE & RYAN
For a moment, my breath caught.
Not because I doubted myself.
Because seeing the lie printed so beautifully made it feel stronger.
A young woman with a headset stopped me at the side entrance.
“Name, please?”
“Maya Whitaker,” I said. “Family of the groom.”
She checked the list. Of course, I was not there.
“I’m sorry, I don’t see—”
Noah stepped forward, smiling.
“My dad’s the groom.”
The woman froze.
Her eyes moved from him to me, then back to him. Something human flickered behind her professional smile.
“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Back left.”
I nodded once.
We entered the church just as the music began.
The sanctuary was full. White flowers draped every pew. Candles glowed in gold holders. The air smelled like lilies, expensive perfume, and old wood.
