Inside were dozens of photos. A marina restaurant decorated with white flowers and candles. An invoice from the jewelry store for a custom gold band, specially widened. A document titled Our Wedding, with a date three weeks away and a guest list that included half our friends. And one picture I couldn’t stop staring at: Steven, beaming, beside a woman in a long ivory wedding dress, her back turned to the camera.

I closed the laptop and sat on the floor until my legs went numb. I didn’t call Steven. I couldn’t. Exactly an hour later, the doorbell rang. Through the glass, I saw my younger sister, Paula, holding a long white garment bag over her arm. And when she smiled and lifted it, I recognized her shoes. They were the same silver heels the woman in the wedding dress had been wearing.