I can’t wait to see you.
He stared at the message.
Then typed:
Soon.
His sister raised an eyebrow.
“Cruel.”
“No.”
“True.”
At twelve forty-five, the ceremony was scheduled to begin.
Guests took seats.
Music softened.
The groom stood alone in a side hallway.
His mother approached.
She looked at him for several seconds.
Then adjusted his tie.
Exactly as she had when he was a teenager.
“You don’t have to be strong for everybody.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He smiled.
“Working on it.”
His mother touched the gold trumpet.
“Your father wore this when you graduated.”
“I remember.”
“He cried.”
“He claimed allergies.”
“He was a liar.”
The groom laughed.
Then the doors opened.
He walked forward.
Alone.
Guests stood automatically.
Then realized there was no wedding party behind him.
Whispers spread.
The groom reached the front.
Turned.
Two hundred faces looked back.
He found his former students.
Employees.
Mother.
Sister.
Friends.
Then the fiancée appeared at the rear entrance.
She looked confused.
The coordinator had told her to wait.
She had not.
She stepped into the aisle.
“What's going on?”
The groom looked at her.
For the first time since crawling out from under the bed, they faced each other.
No wall.
No mattress.
No secret.
He held the microphone.
“There will not be a wedding today.”
The room went completely still.
The fiancée froze.
“What?”
He did not explain publicly.
Not the details.
Not the recording.
Not the actress.
His mother’s advice remained in his head.
He spoke to the guests.
“Something happened last night that made it impossible for me to enter this marriage honestly.”
A murmur moved through the room.
The fiancée walked forward.
“What are you doing?”
The groom looked directly at her.
“I’m ending the engagement.”
Her face changed.
Not heartbreak first.
Fear.
“How?”
One word.
He understood what she meant.
How do you know?
The groom did not answer.
He addressed the guests.
“I will not ask any of you to choose sides.”
“I will not discuss private evidence in this room.”
“But you traveled here.”
“You gave us your day.”
“The food is paid for.”
“The musicians are here.”
He looked toward his former students.
“So if you’re willing, we’re changing the purpose.”
The screen behind him illuminated.
Not screenshots.
Not scandal.
A photograph of his father conducting a school band thirty years earlier.
The groom’s throat tightened.
“Today will fund instruments for students who need them.”
His mother began crying.
His sister smiled.
The groom continued.