The late afternoon sun spilled through the towering stained-glass windows of St. Alder’s Cathedral, filling the vast space with warm golden light. The beams refracted into hundreds of tiny rainbows that danced across the marble floor, shifting gently with the movement of clouds outside. The faint scent of roses from the elaborate floral arrangements blended with the aroma of polished oak pews, creating a feeling of both celebration and tradition.

Guests murmured softly, their conversations weaving together into a background melody of anticipation. Some fanned themselves discreetly, others leaned forward to catch a better glimpse of the altar where Thomas stood, trying his best to appear calm. His dark suit fit him perfectly, but his fingers kept brushing over his tie in small, nervous adjustments. He could feel his pulse in his ears—steady yet quick—matching the rapid flutter in his chest.

This was the moment he had imagined countless times. In just minutes, he would see Emily walking toward him, radiant in her gown, ready to say the words that would bind them together for life. She had been his closest friend for years, his partner through both laughter and hardship, and now, she was about to become his wife.

The organist’s first notes of the bridal march rose through the cathedral, each chord echoing off the high vaulted ceiling. Guests shifted in their seats, turning their heads toward the grand double doors at the far end of the aisle. Then, like the opening of a stage curtain, the doors swung wide to reveal Emily.

She was breathtaking. The delicate lace of her veil caught the light in a way that made it shimmer with every step. Her gown flowed around her in layers of ivory silk and chiffon, trailing behind her like a whisper. On her arm, her father walked proudly, his smile soft but his eyes shining with emotion. As they began their slow walk down the aisle, the hush among the guests felt almost sacred.

Thomas’s eyes locked on Emily’s. For a moment, the cathedral, the guests, the music—everything—faded away. It was just the two of them, and the silent understanding of what this moment meant.

But then, something shifted.

As Emily reached the halfway point down the aisle, Thomas noticed a faint ripple in her gown—so subtle at first that he thought it was the way the fabric moved over her shoes. Yet it happened again, this time in a way that didn’t match her stride. It wasn’t the usual swaying of silk; it was a slow, deliberate motion that seemed to come from within the folds of the dress itself.

A few guests tilted their heads, their expressions quietly curious. The faint sound of fabric rustling reached Thomas’s ears, though Emily’s walk was graceful and measured. His brows drew together slightly, his smile becoming thinner, though he tried to maintain his composure.

Emily’s serene expression never changed. Her eyes stayed fixed on Thomas, her smile calm, as if unaware of anything unusual. The organ music swelled, masking the quiet murmurs now rippling through the crowd. Some guests leaned subtly toward each other, whispering in tones barely above a breath, while others kept their gaze locked on the bride’s gown, waiting to see if the movement would happen again.

It did.

A larger shift rolled through the bottom layers of her skirt, like a small wave moving under a blanket. The motion was quick but undeniable. Thomas felt his heart rate spike—not from doubt about the wedding, but from the growing mystery unfolding in front of everyone. His mind began racing through possibilities, each more puzzling than the last.

The grand aisle suddenly felt longer than ever, the seconds stretching as Emily continued her steady approach. The scent of roses, the music, the candlelight—all of it remained beautiful, but now there was something else in the air: a quiet tension, an unspoken question that every person in the cathedral was silently asking.

Whatever was happening beneath the gown, Thomas knew one thing—he was about to find out, and so was everyone else.