I had never once met the groom.
***
The week before the wedding tightened around my throat like a ribbon pulled by careful hands.
Vanessa demanded daily meetings at her penthouse.
Each one left me smaller.
She criticized my handwriting, my shoes, my perfume, my hair.
Even the way I said the word “linen” was wrong, according to her.
I smiled and wrote everything down.
Vanessa demanded daily meetings.
The final payment would land the day after the ceremony.
I only needed to survive a few more days.
***
At home, Sean grew stranger by the day.
One night he stood in the bedroom holding the tuxedo I’d bought him for our anniversary in front of himself.
He studied his reflection in the mirror.
Sean grew stranger by the day.
“Where are you going in that?”
He jumped.
“Nowhere. Just wondering if it still fits.”
***
Finally, the night before Vanessa’s wedding came.
