Then the music shifted.
The crowd hushed.
Heads turned toward a flower-draped stone staircase.
The bride appeared.
She was radiant—white gown, calm smile, dark hair falling softly against her shoulders.
Lucas stopped breathing.
Not because of her beauty.
Because of the bracelet.
A red string. Frayed. Knotted the same uneven way.
His hands trembled. His heart slammed against his ribs. Without thinking, he stepped forward.
“Ma’am,” he said, voice cracking, “that bracelet… where did you get it?”
Silence fell heavy.
The bride looked down at her wrist. Then slowly lifted her eyes to the boy standing before her.
Their gazes locked.
She gasped.
Her knees buckled. She sank to the ground, dress pooling around her.
“What’s your name?” she whispered.
“Lucas,” he said. “My name is Lucas.”
The officiant dropped the microphone. Murmurs rippled through the guests.
The groom stepped forward, stunned. “What’s going on?”
The bride broke apart. “I was nineteen,” she sobbed. “Alone. Terrified. I thought leaving him was the only way he’d live. I never stopped thinking about him. I kept the bracelet because I couldn’t keep my son.”
She pulled Lucas into her arms, shaking. “Please forgive me.”