Juniper didn’t smile back. She just stared quietly at Maribel’s shoes.
Our wedding day arrived bright and lively. White chairs filled the backyard, string lights hung between the trees, and flowers decorated every other seat. Guests hugged me and whispered, “She would have wanted this,” and I swallowed the mix of sadness and hope. FindWedding Venues
My brother sla:pped my shoulder. “You’re doing it, man. A fresh start.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A new chapter.”
Juniper wore a pale floral dress and the serious expression she usually reserved for dentist visits. She sat in the front row during photos, then slipped away once the adults started chatting loudly. I assumed she had wandered into the kitchen for snacks.
But three minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, her chair was empty. Not the kind of empty that meant a quick bathroom trip—completely empty.
My chest tightened instantly.
I turned to my brother. “Have you seen Junie?”
He frowned. “She was just here.”
“I’ll find her.”
I searched the backyard first. “Junie?” I called, trying to sound calm while the cheerful processional music began playing in the background.
