There were too many men in dark suits standing quietly at the edges, too many discreet earpieces, and too much security for what should have been a simple ceremony, and although I noticed every detail I chose not to question it because I was blinded by what I felt for her.
Later that night, when we were finally alone in a large bedroom with high ceilings and dim lighting, Eleanor closed the door slowly with trembling hands and placed a thick envelope along with a set of car keys on the table beside us.
“This is your wedding gift,” she said softly, trying to steady her voice as she spoke. “There is a significant amount of money and a truck registered in your name.”
I smiled awkwardly and gently pushed the envelope back toward her because I did not want anything except her presence in my life.
“I do not need any of that,” I told her honestly. “Being with you already feels like more than enough for me.”
She looked at me in a way that made my chest tighten, because her eyes were filled with sadness as if she were standing on the edge of something irreversible.
“My dear, before we go any further, I need to tell you something important,” she said carefully, struggling to maintain composure.
A chill ran through me as I watched her slowly remove the shawl from her shoulders, and when my eyes landed on her left shoulder I froze completely in place.
There was a dark circular birthmark with uneven edges, placed exactly where my mother had one that I had seen since childhood.
My hand trembled as I pointed toward it, unable to process what I was seeing.
“That mark, why do you have the same one,” I asked, my voice shaking despite my effort to remain calm.
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly and took a small step backward as if bracing herself for what she was about to say.
“Because I can no longer keep this hidden,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the truth.
At that moment the room stopped feeling like a place of celebration and began to feel like a trap closing in around me, and I realized that everything I believed was about to collapse.
I did not sit down because my legs refused to obey me, while she slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the bed as if years of silence had suddenly caught up with her.
