“Ma’am… where did you get that bracelet?”
The bride froze.
The murmurs vanished. Silence rippled through the crowd.
In that instant, the air felt heavy—as if something buried for years had finally forced its way into the open.
Slowly, the bride turned toward the small boy standing at the edge of the aisle. Her smile faded as her gaze dropped to her wrist, then lifted to Lucas’s face. For several long seconds, she said nothing.
At last, she spoke, her voice unsteady.
“What’s your name?”
“Lucas,” he replied quietly. “Lucas Miller.”
Her breath caught. She took a step toward him, then another, her hands beginning to shake. The officiant lowered his book. Guests exchanged confused glances. Cameras slowly lowered.
