And now, here he was. Standing under string lights in a backyard that smelled of cut grass and wood smoke, looking at me.

My stomach dropped. I felt sick to my stomach, a physical weight settling deep in my chest.

I had spent three hours in my clean BMW thinking about how I was going to humiliate these people, and now I couldn’t even draw a full breath.

Sophie was walking down the aisle. Her dress was simple, some kind of white lace that didn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars. She had wildflowers in her hair. When her eyes met mine, she didn’t look shocked. She didn’t look angry.

She just looked at me with this quiet, heavy pity that made my knees feel weak.

I wanted to run. I wanted to turn around and walk back through the folding chairs, get into my car, and drive back to my empty house in Westchester. But I couldn’t move.

Daniel stepped down from the altar. He didn’t look at the minister or the guests. He just walked down the grass path toward me, his boots heavy on the dry upstate soil.

“David,” he said quietly. He stopped two feet away from me. He looked at my custom suit, my polished shoes, and my silver Tiffany tie clip.

I tried to speak. I wanted to find some of that corporate arrogance, some cold remark to protect myself. But my throat locked completely.

“I came here to…” I started, but my voice broke. I looked down at the grass.

“I know,” Daniel said. He didn’t smile, but there was no anger in his eyes either. He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder. His palm was rough, like sandpaper, but his grip was warm and steady. “You look like you’ve been carrying a lot of weight, brother.”

That was the part that broke me. He wasn’t angry. He was still the same boy who used to take the blame when our father got drunk and started looking for someone to hit. He was still kinder than I had ever been.

I looked past him at Sophie. She was standing near the wooden arch, her hands clasped together.

“I thought you made a mistake,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. “I thought… I thought you chose someone who couldn’t give you anything.”

Sophie took a step forward. Her voice was soft, but every single person in that small backyard heard it.

“I did make a mistake, David,” she said. “Years ago, I married a man who confused his bank account with his character. I didn’t make that mistake twice.”

The words cut through my chest. Nobody said anything for a second, and honestly, that felt worse than if she had screamed at me. The string lights above us flickered in the evening breeze, and the birds in the maple trees sounded incredibly loud.