“Why?”

“I can’t explain right now.”

I could feel every head in the room turning toward us. “So you came here to ruin my night for fun?”

Claire reached for my wrist. “Please listen to me…”

I yanked my arm away. “You’re jealous. You can’t stand that I finally have something good.”

I saw the words hit her.

Claire’s eyes filled with tears. “I am trying to stop you from making a mistake, Ally.”

“Then say what you mean.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet.”

I pointed toward the door. “Then leave.”

She did.

And that was the last thing I ever said to my sister while she was still alive to answer me.

My wedding day started bright and beautiful.

The church smelled like lilies and candle wax. Ryan stood waiting at the altar, calm and steady. Afterward, everyone drove downtown to the restaurant for the reception.

I kept glancing toward the entrance, but Claire never showed up. I called her several times, but every call went straight to voicemail.

My father insisted she was upset and would calm down eventually. My mother told me not to let her ruin my day. So I smiled at cousins, thanked people for gifts, and pretended my stomach wasn’t folding inward on itself.

An hour passed. Then my mother’s phone rang.

She listened for several seconds before going pale and pressing a hand over her mouth. “There was a crash,” she whispered.

For one second, nobody seemed capable of moving. Then chairs scraped back, car keys appeared, and suddenly we were all rushing out before the call had even fully ended.

Rain started during the drive. Heavy rain slashing sideways across the road, turning headlights into blurry smears.

The rescue crews were still searching when we arrived. Flashlights swept across the riverbank. Mud soaked through the hem of my wedding dress.

Claire had taken a different road — a shortcut beside the river. Her car went off the edge and into the water.

The next day they found her body, and instead of a honeymoon, there was a funeral. Black dresses. Casseroles covering kitchen counters. People saying, “She knew you loved her,” with that awful gentle certainty people use when they have nothing useful to say.

And through all of it, one thought kept pressing against the back of my mind.

Claire had been trying to tell me something.

A week later, Ryan left for work. Twenty minutes after he drove away, my phone rang.