Press Play
At the reception, the atmosphere buzzed with champagne and laughter.
Diane beamed under the fairy lights, Aaron couldn’t stop grinning, and everyone seemed charmed.
I waited. Patient. Calm.
When the moment felt right, I slipped the USB from my clutch and into the laptop connected to the venue projector.
No one noticed.
Then I hit play.
The music cut off. The lights dimmed slightly as the projector came to life.
At first, people assumed it was a wedding montage.
But the first image that appeared made the room go still.
Diane, in my living room, wearing my robe, sipping wine. Aaron leaned close to her, whispering, “She’ll never find out. We’re untouchable.”
A collective gasp.
Someone dropped a glass.
“Is that…?” a voice murmured.
I stood back, silent, watching.
On screen, my mother laughed—my laugh—sitting in the home that used to be mine.
The audio was clear: “Claire’s so naive. I almost feel bad for her.”
The room erupted.
“What the hell is this?” Aaron hissed, spinning toward me.
I tilted my head. “A little something I put together,” I said.
“Turn it off!” Diane snapped, her voice shrill.
But I didn’t move.
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