Mara looked at me as if I had caused the entire collapse.
“You could have warned me.”
That finally made something inside me settle.
“I did.”
She frowned.
“When?”
“I told you this was your night.
I asked if you were sure you wanted me to start.”
Mara said nothing.
“You had every opportunity to stop.”
Her eyes filled suddenly, though whether from shame, anger, or panic, I could not tell.
“This is my wedding.”
“I know.”
“You’ve ruined it.”
“No,” Daniel said.
His voice was quiet enough that everyone near us leaned closer.
Mara turned toward him.
He looked devastated.
“You did.”
That hurt her more than anything I had said.
I saw it immediately.
For the first time all night, she had no performance ready.
She simply stared at him.
Daniel looked around the ballroom, aware of every witness, every relative, every friend.
Then he lowered his voice.
“We’re going outside.”
Mara resisted.
“Daniel—”
“Now.”
They left through the terrace doors.
Nobody followed.
The bandleader quietly announced a short break.
Servers resumed moving.
Conversations restarted in low, careful tones.
Adrian came over to me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I may have overstepped.”
“You saved the pianist from having a heart attack.”
That made him laugh.
“He recognized you before I stood up.”
“I noticed.”
Adrian glanced toward the terrace doors.
“Are you all right?”
I considered the question.
“I think so.”
He nodded.
“Good performance.”
“Thank you.”
Then, because he was still an artistic director even at a family wedding, he added, “Your breath before the final phrase was rushed.”
I stared at him.
He smiled.
“See you Monday.”
And just like that, the world became normal again.
My aunt reached me next and wrapped both hands around mine.
“You never told me.”
“I know.”
