I stood in the third pew from the back, hands locked so tightly around the program that the paper tore under my nails, and watched the man who used to call me his forever promise another woman forever.
Mira’s white dress clung to the soft curve of her stomach. Not hidden. Not even trying. The bump sat there under the lace like a proud little secret finally allowed to breathe. Two months ago she had stood in my living room, eyes wet, voice shaking, telling me she was sorry, that it had only been a few times, that she was pregnant. I had felt hollow then. Empty. Today the emptiness had teeth.
“I take you, Mira, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”
His voice carried. Steady. Warm. The same voice that used to murmur filthy promises against my neck in the dark. I wondered how many of those busy n
