I mean it.”

He hugged me, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “Claire, I’d never. Don’t worry.”

I wanted to believe him. I did.

Our wedding day felt like magic. The warm sun streamed through the garden patio, flowers perfumed the air, and my father, Phillip, held my hand with pride as he walked me down the aisle. Dylan’s hands trembled when we exchanged rings, and for a moment, I thought we’d built something safe and beautiful together.

My dress had taken six months to make—white tulle, pearl buttons, intricate embroidery stitched with love. The reception flowed with laughter and music until the photographer suggested we take romantic photos near the pool outside.

Dylan leaned close, brushing a stray hair from my face. “You trust me, right?”

I smiled softly. “Of course. Just… no surprises.”

He nodded.

We posed