Fifty years. Half a century. A lifetime.
Margaret sat by the window of her quaint country home, watching the rain softly tap against the glass. Her hands, worn with age, cradled a cup of tea as her thoughts drifted back to a day she had tried so hard to forget—her wedding day.
The day Robert disappeared.
She could still recall the delicate lace of her gown, the fresh scent of lilies filling the chapel, and the happiness that swelled in her chest. But what stood out the most was the moment she stood at the altar, surrounded by guests who whispered nervously behind her, waiting for her groom, who was nowhere to be found.
For decades, Margaret told herself that Robert had simply gotten cold feet. Perhaps he wasn’t ready, or maybe he didn’t love her as much as she had thought. Over the years, she learned to live with the heartbreak, moving on with her life, marrying someone else, and raising children. But that day, that moment, lingered in the back of her mind, haunting her through even the happiest times.
Now, at seventy-two, Margaret found herself alone again. Her husband, Edward, had passed five years earlier, and her children had grown up and moved away. The house, once full of life, was now silent.
Everything changed when Margaret decided to finally clean out her late father’s study.
