Elena stood in the middle of the brightly lit fitting room, staring at her reflection. The white dress felt too heavy and tight, like it was trying to hold her together. Her hands shook as she fiddled with the veil.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

The wedding was three weeks away. Everything had been planned down to the last napkin. Michael was kind, stable and from a good family. 

Everyone kept telling her how lucky she was. But every time she looked in the mirror, all she felt was a quiet, growing dread.

A soft knock sounded on the door. “Elena? Can I come in?”

It was Nora, her wedding planner....