“Yes,” I answered.
She took a deep breath.
“Please, follow me. Emily has been waiting for you.”
She led me down a long hallway and opened a small room.
And there she was.
My little girl.
Except she wasn’t a little girl anymore.
She was wearing a beautiful white wedding dress. Her eyes filled with tears the moment she saw me.
“Dad…”
I dropped the roses.
I wanted to hug her, but she stepped back.
Then she handed me a photograph.
It was a picture of my wife, taken just three days before she died.
On the back, in her handwriting, were six words:
“Robert, tell Emily the truth.”
I looked at my daughter.
“What truth?”
Emily began crying.
“Dad, I found Mom’s old diary. And I finally understand why she made you promise never to tell me what happened that night.”
My heart started racing.
“What happened that night, Emily?”
