The pause that followed stretched so long it felt like the earth itself had stopped spinning. Sophie’s smile faltered, her gaze darting toward me before falling to the floor. Her lips trembled as she spoke words I’ll never forget:

“It’s… Daniel.”

The sanctuary erupted—gasps, murmurs, even the sharp thud of a hymnal hitting the floor. My heart pounded violently in my chest. Emily’s hand, once gently entwined with mine, clenched tightly before dropping away, her arm falling rigidly to her side.

And just like that, the life I thought I had carefully rebuilt from ruins began to collapse—right there, in front of everyone.

What followed Sophie’s revelation was pure chaos. Emily’s maid of honor tried to usher her to a seat, but Emily refused to move, her gaze locked on me—intense, unwavering, burning with a fire I couldn’t meet. I stood motionless at the altar, the weight of every pair of eyes in the room pressing down on me, silently demanding answers I wasn’t prepared to give—answers I wasn’t even sure I had.

I hadn’t spoken to Sophie in months, not since the final signatures on our divorce. We’d ended things on what could only be described as polite terms, though bitterness lingered just beneath the surface. I had resented her for walking away too easily; she accused me of emotionally shutting her out. The reality? We had both failed each other in different ways.