Five years after my wife, Natalie, disappeared from our lives and was later declared dead by her powerful family, I was just beginning to feel whole again. I was raising our daughter, Emma, on my own, slowly rebuilding a life around the pieces she left behind. So when my best friend Stefan invited me to his wedding, I went—not expecting joy, but out of loyalty. The ceremony was beautiful. Guests were smiling, the music was soft and hopeful. Then the bride began her walk down the aisle. I barely glanced up—until I did. And in that moment, my world cracked open. As Stefan gently lifted her veil,

I saw her. Natalie. Alive. She saw me too—and froze. A flicker of guilt flashed across her face before she turned and bolted. I stood, heart racing, barely aware that Emma tugged at my hand and asked softly, “Daddy, why are you crying?”