I froze with the receiver pressed tightly against my ear, listening to my cousin’s frantic, breathless voice on the line.
“What did Amelia do?” I whispered, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“She walked right up to the altar,” my cousin replied, her tone shaking. “She interrupted the entire wedding.”
A wave of nausea washed over me. I couldn’t breathe as I pictured my nine-year-old daughter standing before dozens of silent relatives, her tiny hands trembling under the heavy gaze of the crowd. I had refused to attend the ceremony—the wedding where my ex-husband, Ryan, was preparing to marry my own younger sister, Sarah.
I had wanted to spare myself the agony, but I never anticipated what my daughter had planned.
The Wedding Album at the Altar
My cousin quickly explained that Amelia hadn’t gone up to throw a childish tantrum. She had walked down the aisle carrying something heavy tucked under her arm: my old wedding album.
