Chapter 2 - The Stolen Locket
The groom steps down from the altar platform.
His dark navy suit fits him like armor, stiff and unyielding.
He doesn't look down at the child; his eyes scan the rows of wealthy faces staring back.
He adjusts his gold cufflinks with slow, calculated precision.
"Vanessa, get her up," he says under his breath. "The photographer is waiting."
Vanessa reaches for Lily’s wrist, her grip tightening past gentle.
Lily kicks out. Her small shoe heel strikes Vanessa’s knee.
Vanessa gasps, stumbling back into the floral arrangement.
White hydrangeas shake, dropping loose petals over the aisle runner.
"She's throwing a tantrum because of the locket," the groom’s mother mutters, standing up. "I told you to take that dirty trash off her before the photos."
The groom moves. He bends down, his heavy leather shoes crunching a fallen flower.
His long fingers wrap around the silver chain at Lily’s neck.
Lily bites her lower lip until it bleeds, her hands fighting his larger fist.
"Give it here, Lily," he says, his voice flat, devoid of heat.
"No! Mommy put her hair inside!" Lily cries out, digging her heels into the floor.
"Mommy put a secret inside!"
The groom yanks upward.
The cheap silver chain snaps with a quiet pop.
The taped metal heart drops to the floor, rolling into the shadow of the altar.
Lily drops to her knees, her small hands scraping frantically against the wood to reach it.
The groom steps on it deliberately, the leather sole covering the tiny metal heart entirely.
"Your mother left," he says, leaning down so only she can hear.
"She left because you cried too much. Just like this."
Lily stops digging.
Her fingers freeze against the floor.
Her chest moves in rapid, shallow hitches, but no sound comes out.
The room is silent except for the low hum of the air conditioning.
Vanessa smoothes down her gown, taking her place beside the groom.
"Stand her up, Julian," Vanessa whispers, putting a hand on his arm. "Let's just finish the vows."
Julian lifts his foot off the crushed locket.
The scotch tape is dirty now, coated in gray floor dust.
Lily doesn't reach for it.
She stares at the dark leather of his shoes, her eyes wide and blank.
May you like
"Get up, Lily," Julian orders, reaching for her upper arm.
Then, a heavy thud reverberates through the heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall.
