The lake stretched out before me like a promise, smooth, silver, and utterly indifferent to the chaos brewing in my chest. I stood on the resort’s wraparound porch, clutching my leather-bound planner against my ribs, and told myself to breathe.

This was Maya’s weekend. Maya, who had held my hand through my mother’s funeral. Maya, who had talked me down from quitting the wedding industry after the Kendrick catastrophe of 2023. Maya, who deserved absolutely nothing less than perfection.

I flipped open my planner to the tabbed section labeled “Friday: Rehearsal & Dinner.” Every minute from 3:00 PM to 10:30 PM had been accounted for, color-coded, and cross-referenced.

The timeline...