I stood at the altar in my white dress, feeling like I was in a dream. The man I loved was just a few feet away, laughing with the guests. Everything was exactly as it should be. The day was flawless—or at least, it seemed that way. Just as the ceremony was about to begin, I saw her. A little girl, no older than five, appeared out of nowhere. She was holding a small bouquet of daisies, her eyes wide and curious. Her dress was dirty, her shoes scuffed. She looked like she had wandered off from somewhere, lost and confused.

She walked right up to me. “Do you have a coin?” she asked, her voice soft but clear. I smiled, reaching for my purse. “Of course,” I said, but something felt off. As I handed her a coin, I noticed her wrist. My heart stopped. There, on her tiny arm, was a birthmark. It was shaped like an uneven heart. The exact same shape as my fiancé’s birthmark.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My mind raced, pulling up memories I had tried to forget. Five years ago, I had started to doubt him. “Where have you been?” I had asked one night, my voice shaking.

I grabbed the little girl’s hand, holding it up for everyone to see. “Then how do you explain this?” I pointed at the birthmark. “She has the same mark as you.” Gasps rippled through the crowd. James looked from the birthmark to me, his eyes wide with shock. “No… that’s not… It’s just a coincidence,” he stammered. On what should have been the happiest day of her life, a mysterious little girl with a bouquet of daisies turned one bride’s world upside down. A single glance at the child’s wrist revealed a secret that shattered everything she thought she knew about the man waiting for her at the altar.

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The sun was shining, warm but not too hot. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of flowers through the park. My friends and family were all around, smiling and chatting. The crowd was silent, every eye on us. James stood frozen, his face pale as he stared at the little girl’s hand, the birthmark clear as day. My heart pounded, but I kept my voice steady. “Tell me the truth, James,” I repeated. “Did you have a child five years ago?”