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.
Inside the house, I checked the kitchen, the living room, and my office.
Nothing.
