We planned the wedding for the following spring.
The ceremony would take place in a small white chapel with narrow stained-glass windows and polished wooden pews.
My mother helped me choose lilies for the bouquets. My coworkers at the bakery offered to make the wedding cake. Nearly everyone who heard our story called it proof that true love could survive time and distance.
I believed that too.
But the night before the wedding, Leo was unusually quiet.
I found him standing alone on the balcony of our apartment. His hands gripped the railing as he stared into the darkness.
I stepped outside and wrapped a sweater around myself.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
He nodded without looking at me.
“About tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“About marrying me?”
He turned so quickly that I almost laughed.
“No. Never about marrying you.”
I moved closer and slipped my arms around his waist.
“Then what is frightening you?”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he asked, “Do you believe someone can do a terrible thing even if it began with a good intention?”
I pulled back and studied his face.
“That is a strange question to ask the night before your wedding.”
He tried to smile.
“I suppose it is.”
“What terrible thing?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed.”
Something in his voice unsettled me.
I should have demanded an explanation.
I should have stayed on that balcony until he told me the truth.
Instead, I kissed him and rested my head against his chest.
“Tomorrow will be beautiful,” I assured him.
His arms closed tightly around me.
For the rest of my life, I would remember how desperately he held on.
