Chapter 2
Julian looked into Clara’s red-rimmed eyes, seeing a terror there that didn't belong in a six-year-old. He reached out, his fingers hesitating just an inch from her shoulder before resting gently on her fabric. "Clara, sweetie, what's wrong?" he asked, keeping his voice low and steady. The little girl sniffled, wiping her cheek with the back of a small hand. She held out a folded piece of heavy cream-colored paper, its edges slightly frayed from being clutched too tightly. It was a handwritten letter, penned in sweeping, familiar cursive that Julian recognized instantly as Elena’s handwriting. He took the paper from her small fingers, feeling the slight indentation where her grip had been. The text was brief, written with a cold finality that cut straight through the warmth of the day. Julian's eyes scanned the lines, his breath catching in his throat. She said after you say I do, I have to leave forever. The words repeated themselves in his mind, stripping away the romance of the white tuxedo and the grand hall. Clara watched him closely, her bottom lip trembling. Julian didn't know what to say. He looked back down at the letter, turning it over in his hands. The ink was fresh, written perhaps an hour ago in the quiet hours before the guests arrived. He felt a cold sweat break out across the back of his neck. This wasn't a child's misunderstanding. It was a condition, a silent ultimatum laid down by the woman he was supposed to marry in less than twenty minutes. He stood up slowly, the paper crinkling in his fist as a sudden wave of protective fury washed over him, replacing his initial confusion with a sharp, clear focus.
