The Secret Behind the Door
The groom's heart pounded.
He looked at the little girl again.
Something about her felt strangely familiar.
The same dark eyes.
The same smile hidden beneath her tears.
The same tiny dimple he had seen in the mirror his entire life.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.
The little girl sniffled.
"Sophie."
"And where's your mom?"
She pointed toward the bridal suite.
The groom's stomach dropped.
Toward the room where his fiancée was getting ready.
Suddenly, memories rushed back.
Three years earlier.
A brief breakup.
A period when they hadn't spoken for months.
His fiancée had disappeared from social media shortly afterward.
When they reunited, she never explained why.
He never asked.
Now, standing in that bathroom, looking at Sophie, he realized there was only one possibility.
His hands began to shake.
"How old are you?"
"Three."
The answer hit him like a train.
Exactly three years.
Exactly.
The room seemed to tilt.
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And for the first time that day, he wasn't thinking about the wedding.
He was thinking about the child hiding in front of him.
