She pressed a hand to her chest as if she could hold herself together, her veil trailing behind like a ghost of the life she had just lost. Inside, the vows continued, but she no longer heard them. For Clara, the wedding was over. And she had never felt so alone.
Clara didn’t remember the drive home, only that her hands shook so badly she could hardly keep them on the wheel. By the time she reached the quiet safety of her house, her veil lay crumpled on the passenger seat, her gown torn at the hem. She fumbled with the spare key under the mat, slipped inside, and collapsed against the door as sobs consumed her.