My bride slipped me a note asking me to say no at the altar, it sounded crazy, but I trusted her plan
The first time I saw Emily was on a quiet December afternoon in a bookstore, sunlight pooling on the floor like spilled honey. She was at the end of an aisle, scarf looped twice around her neck, reading the back of a cookbook like it held secrets. That moment—her small smile when I said hello—was…
