The chapel held its breath.
And then…she appeared.
Vivian Carter.
Alive.
Wrapped in a gown of ivory silk, her veil cascading like mist over trembling shoulders as she walked elegantly.
No one spoke.
Christopher stood frozen at the altar. His fingers gripped the bouquet of white roses like they were the only thing tethering him to this earth. His lips parted, but no sound came. His eyes filled, glazed with tears he didn’t bother to blink away.
He had watched her die once.
Now, he was watching her walk back to him.
She reached him.
And when she slipped her hand into his…God, he nearly collapsed.
The warmth of her fingers. The life in her touch. It undid him.
The priest stepped forward, his voice quiet, reverent, aged with grace and the weight of bearing witness to love in all i
