her bedroom door. For months, I couldn’t bring myself to turn the handle, terrified of the silence that lay behind it. I knew exactly what was waiting there, hanging on the back of the door like a cruel taunt.
It was the dress. We had spent six months hunting for the perfect gown, visiting every boutique within a fifty-mile radius. Teresa had tried on dozens of dresses—satin, lace, tulle, and silk—but none of them felt right until she slipped into the pale blue gown. It was studded with tiny, hand-stitched
