At her father’s funeral, Kate expects to say goodbye. Instead, a mysterious woman in a wedding dress steps forward and reveals a love story frozen in time. As secrets unfold and hearts collide, Kate discovers that real love doesn’t always end. Sometimes, it waits… even if only to be seen one final time.
There’s a strange numbness that settles in when you’ve been grieving too long.
By the time we got to the church, I couldn’t cry anymore. I’d spent a week doing just that, crying in the shower, crying over coffee, and crying into my mother’s shoulder.
But at the funeral, standing in the hush of polished wood and lilies, I just… floated.
My name is Kate. Daniel was my father and on the day we laid him to rest, something extraordinary happened.
At first, everything was the way it was supposed to be. The organ played gently. The priest murmured something kind. My mother, Catherine, sat beside me, composed but pale, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
We were mid-service, deep in silent prayer, when the doors opened.
And in she came.
A woman, older, maybe 70, maybe more, walked slowly down the aisle. She wore a white wedding dress.
Not a costume. Not a veil-and-tulle fairytale. It was sleek. Modest. Laced sleeves, high collar, and delicate gloves. Her hair was pinned neatly in a bun and her face, though aged, glowed with something between sorry and certainty.
Then I looked at my mother. Her face had drained of all color. The woman walked straight to my father’s casket.
She placed her hand, gloved and trembling, on the dark wood. And then she whispered something.
“You finally got to see me in white, Daniel.”
I gasped quickly, almost choking on the air. Gasps echoed in the room. Whispers.