Wedding photography
He was twenty-one, handsome, reserved, and the only son of a wealthy family. During the ceremony, he held my hand in front of everyone, but his fingers felt strangely cold.
His mother, Margaret, watched me throughout the evening with a hard, unforgiving expression, as though she knew something about me and had already decided I was unworthy of her son.
That night, after the last guest had left, I sat on the edge of the bed in Adrian’s family home. My hands trembled beneath the heavy folds of my wedding dress.
I didn’t feel like a bride beginning a beautiful new life.
I felt like a frightened child trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
Adrian stood by the window for several minutes before finally turning toward me.
Continue on the next page:
