I did not wear the prom dress at our wedding.
Instead, I hung it where I could see it.
That night, after the guests left, Daniel sat beside me.
“There’s something I should have told you before we married.”
My stomach tightened.
“The war wasn’t the only reason I stayed away.”
Then he told me the truth.
He had come back decades earlier.
And he had looked for me.
When he reached my parents’ old house, someone answered the door.
Margaret.
My own sister.
Daniel said she told him I had married another man, started a family, and wanted nothing to do with him.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered. “I never married.”
“I know now,” he said. “But I believed her then.”
Even after that, Daniel refused to give up.
He returned repeatedly, asking Margaret for my address or phone number.
She gave him nothing.
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