The wedding was intimate—just close friends, a few relatives, and a breeze that seemed to whisper promises of a new beginning. Amber had never felt so sure of anything in her life. No cold feet, no lingering doubts. Just peace. It was the kind of wedding that didn’t need extravagance to feel sacred.
But the scene she walked into stopped her cold.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, his back to her. His voice was low, almost like a whisper—but every word pierced the air.
“I wish you could see this, Stace… The day was perfect. I just wish you were here.”
Amber froze.
Who was he talking to?
Her heart pounded as she quietly stepped closer. “Steve?” she said softly.
He turned, startled. His face looked different—not guilty, not angry. Just shattered.
The Ghost of a Past He Never Let Go
With trembling hands and eyes full of sorrow, Steve told her the truth.
Steve survived, but part of him didn’t.
Since then, he confessed, he spoke to Stacy in quiet moments. On her birthday. On holidays. On days when the house felt too quiet. And now, on his wedding night—a day he had always imagined sharing with her.
Amber was stunned. Not by anger, not by betrayal—but by the depth of a pain he had never spoken about. The weight of it. The way he had carried it silently, gently, like something fragile and sacred.
Instead of stepping back, she sat beside him.
And she took his hand.
