Chapter 2 - THE WEDDING THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERS
Clara told me Daniel had been diagnosed with an aggressive illness six months before their wedding.
At first, they believed treatment would work.
They postponed the ceremony.
Then postponed it again.
Then stopped talking about dates altogether.
Daniel died the following spring.
Thirty-one years old.
A history teacher who loved old books, terrible jokes, and Sunday morning pancakes.
Clara had been twenty-nine.
She spent the first year after his death doing what everyone expected.
Working.
Answering messages.
Attending birthdays.
Bringing casseroles to other people's houses.
She became the person who never needed anything.
Because needing something meant explaining why she was still hurting.
And people had grown tired of hearing about Daniel.
“I know that sounds unfair,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“It sounds lonely.”
She looked at me.
For a moment, I thought she might cry again.
Instead, she nodded.
“It is.”
Behind us, someone called her name.
“Clara!”
Emma's voice.
Clara stiffened.
“Clara, where are you?”
She stood immediately.
Wiped her cheeks.
Smoothed her dress.
The transformation was so fast it hurt to watch.
One second, she was a grieving woman.
The next, she was the dependable older sister.
I stood too.
“Do you want me to tell her you're busy?”
Clara shook her head.
“No. It's fine.”
I looked at her.
“You don't have to go.”
She smiled sadly.
“That's the problem, Nathan.”
May you like
Then she whispered:
“I always do.”
