I had imagined calling off my wedding a thousand different ways.

I had imagined cold feet, an argument about money, a sudden realization that I wasn’t ready to love someone again.

I had never imagined standing in a bridal suite with my six-year-old daughter in my arms while my bride tried to stop me from listening to my dead wife’s final message.

“Move away from the music box,” I told Vanessa.

She looked at the door.

“Daniel, people are waiting.””

“Let them wait.””

“Your father is going to come looking for you.””

“Then he can come.””

She lowered her voice.

“You’re making a mistake.””

I bent down, keeping Lily securely on my hip, and picked up the silver box.

It was old-fashioned, with a hinged lid and a tiny ballerina that should have spun when the music played. Emily had bought it at an antique market during our first year of marriage.

I had given it to Lily after the funeral because she used to fall asleep listening to the little tune.

But the box in my hands was heavier than I remembered.

A thin black wire ran beneath the base.

Someone had fitted a recording device inside it.

“Who put this in here?”” I asked.

Vanessa’s eyes flicked toward the floor.

“I don’t know.””

“Don’t lie to me.””

“I’m not lying!””

Lily buried her face against my shoulder again.

I lowered my voice immediately.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.””

I carried her to the chaise lounge and sat beside her. Her fingers clung to my jacket.

“Can we go home?”” she whispered.

The question nearly broke me.

“Yes,” I told her.

“We’re going home.””

Vanessa stepped forward.

“You can’t just walk out. This is your wedding.””

I looked at the woman I had planned to marry in less than five minutes.

“No. This is a room where you hurt my child.””

“I told you I didn’t mean to.””

“Then why did you threaten her?””

Vanessa opened her mouth.

Closed it.

For the first time, she seemed unable to manufacture an answer quickly enough.

I examined the underside of the music box. A small switch sat beside the recording device. Beneath it, someone had scratched a series of numbers into the metal.

10-14.

The date of Emily’s death.

I pressed the switch.

Static crackled from a tiny speaker.

Then I heard my wife’s voice.

“Daniel, if you’re listening to this, something has happened, and I didn’t get the chance to explain.””

My breath caught.

Emily sounded tired. Not frightened exactly, but careful, as if she were speaking in a place where someone might overhear her.

“I need you to understand that I never wanted to keep anything from you. But I made a promise, and for a long time, I believed keeping it was the only way to protect Lily.””

The recording hissed.

I could hear traffic in the background.

Then Emily spoke again.

“Vanessa came to see me today. She says she’s worried about you. She says you’re not sleeping, that you’re drinking too much coffee, that you keep forgetting to eat. She says you need help, and she wants to give it to you.””

Vanessa stood perfectly still.

I looked at her.

She stared at the recording device.

Emily continued.

“I told her you were grieving. I told her that grief isn’t a weakness and that you didn’t need someone to rescue you. You needed time.””

A faint sound came through the speaker.

A door closing.

Then Emily’s voice changed.

“And that’s when she told me what she really wanted.””

The recording crackled again.

I pressed the box closer to my ear.

“What did she want?”” I whispered, although Emily could no longer answer me.

On the recording, my wife took a shaky breath.

“She wants you to marry her. Not someday. Soon. She says she’s tired of waiting for you to notice that she’s always been there.””

I felt sick.

Vanessa had told me she had loved me quietly for years. She had described it as a painful secret she had carried while respecting my marriage.

But according to Emily, Vanessa had confronted her about it before my wife died.

“I told her no,” Emily said.

“I told her that if she loved you, she would respect your family. She smiled at me, Daniel. She actually smiled.””

A small, bitter laugh escaped Emily.

“Then she said something I’ll never forget.””

The recording paused.

I could hear Lily breathing against my neck.

“What did she say?”” I asked the empty room.

Emily answered.

“She said, ‘You don’t get to decide who Daniel belongs to forever.’”

Vanessa took a step toward me.

“Turn it off.””

I ignored her.

Emily’s voice grew softer.