The Gift on the Table
The ceremony began.
I carried a small wrapped gift. White paper. Silver ribbon.
On the tag, I’d written in cursive: “A little something to remember that life has a way of balancing itself.”
I placed it on the gift table, then lingered nearby, pretending to make small talk with some guests.
No one paid attention. They were too busy admiring the “happy couple.”
The priest’s voice echoed through the room. Vows. Rings. Promises of forever.
It was surreal watching them—my husband and my mother—pledge their lives together in front of people who thought it was a love story instead of a crime scene.
When they kissed, the room erupted in applause.
I clapped too, smiling.
They thought that was the end of it.
