Her eyes blazed with anger as she walked toward me. The guests stared, wide-eyed, in stunned silence.

When she reached the altar, I gently took her hands and whispered, “Why are you wearing black? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you after the ceremony,” she said, staring into my eyes. Her face was blank, as if I’d committed an unforgivable sin.

“Wait!” I said, raising my hand.

The church fell silent.

“Tell me now,” I insisted, unaware that her next words would shatter my world. “Why are you wearing black?”