I had known Malcolm since we were kids, racing barefoot through his grandmother’s orchard, our fingers sticky from swiping plums and our knees scraped from climbing over fences. We grew up, went off to university, built our careers, and somehow found our way back into each other’s lives time and time again. Our friendship was like that—effortless and steady, untouched by the passage of time or miles between us.
When Malcolm shared the news of his upcoming marriage, I was absolutely thrilled. He used to say he’d never settle down, but now he’s finally found “the one.” Aurelia was her name, and in his eyes, she embodied warmth, intelligence, and a captivating radiance. I had only crossed paths with her twice before the wedding day—a quick greeting at a bustling dinner party and a short conversation following a gallery opening. She appeared to be lovely, though somewhat reserved. She never lingered, always had another place to go. But Malcolm was captivated, so I was all in.
On the wedding morning, the church was bathed in soft candlelight, filled with quiet conversations. White orchids decorated the pews, while a string quartet played a gentle melody. Malcolm stood at the altar, surprisingly composed. Tristan, his closest friend from college, stood beside him. They had been inseparable since their freshman year. I settled into my seat in the front row, sensing the delightful buzz of a celebration about to unfold.
A soft buzz rippled among the guests as the string quartet changed their tune, signaling the bride’s arrival. Everyone turned around. Aurelia stood at the far end of the aisle, wearing a gown that glimmered like silk under the moonlight. Her veil fell gently over her face, and her steps were deliberate, graceful at first sight. Yet, as I observed her more intently, there was something that felt… amiss.
She moved with a stiffness, a carefulness that felt almost unnatural. She held her shoulders tight, and her feet were just barely visible under the hem. Sometimes it seemed more like she was gliding than walking, as if her shoes barely made contact with the ground.