The officiant is clearing his throat for the third time when I realize the groom isn't coming back. Violet stands at the altar in her mother's vintage lace, the train pooling around her like spilled champagne. Three hundred guests shift in their seats. The string quartet has cycled through the same piece twice. Her father—pale, oxygen tank tucked discreetly beside his wheelchair—watches his daughter with an expression that makes my chest ache. He has maybe six months left. Everyone knows it. This wedding was supposed to be his last happy memory. "Where is he?" Violet's whisper carries down the aisle. She's looking at me, mascara already threatening to run. "Emma, where the hell is Marcus?" I don't have an answer. Twenty minutes ago, the groom was in the vestibule, adjusting his tie. Then he stepped outside to take a call and never came back. His phone goes straight to voicemail. His groomsmen checked the parking lot, the bathrooms, even the catering kitchen. Nothing. Derek squeezes my hand. My fiancé—tall, steady, the kind of man who fixes things—leans close. "Should I go look again?" Before I can answer, Violet stumbles down from the altar. Her veil catches on a floral arrangement. She doesn't notice. She walks straight toward us, her face crumpling, and grabs Derek's sleeve. "I can't do this," she says. "I can't stand up there and tell three hundred people that he left. I can't tell my father—" Her voice breaks. "He's dying, Emma. This was supposed to be the one good thing." I take her hand. Violet has been my best friend since college, the person who held my hair back during food poisoning and talked me through my mother's funeral. I've never seen her like this—frantic, unraveling. "We'll figure it out," I say, though I have no idea how. "There's no time." Violet's gaze swings to Derek, then back to me. "Unless—" She stops. Swallows. "This is insane. Never mind." "What?" "Just for appearances." The words tumble out fast. "Just so no one knows. Derek could walk down the aisle with me. Stand there while the officiant does the ceremony. We'll say Marcus got sick, had to step out, but we didn't want to cancel. It's just for show. For my dad. Please." The request doesn't make sense. I'm still processing it when Derek says, "Violet—" "Five minutes," she says. "That's all I need. My father doesn't have to know his son-in-law abandoned me. I'll tell everyone the truth tomorrow. But today—" Her voice cracks. "Please. I'm begging you." Derek looks at me. His hazel eyes are uncertain, asking permission. I should say no. Every instinct tells me this is wrong. But Violet's father is watching from the front row, and the hope on his face is unbearable. He thinks his daughter is about to marry the man she loves. He doesn't know that man is gone. I nod. Relief floods Violet's expression. She kisses my cheek. "Thank you. God, Emma, thank you. I'll fix this, I promise." Derek shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls his shoulders like he's preparing for something physical. "Okay. Let's do this fast before I change my mind." They walk to the altar together. Violet's hand is on Derek's arm, and from where I'm sitting, they look like any other couple. The guests settle. The officiant begins. I tell myself this is fine. It's a performance. A kindness for a dying man. But then the officiant says, "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" And Derek says, "I do." The words land wrong. Too real. Too final. Violet says, "I do," and her voice doesn't waver. The officiant smiles. "By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Derek hesitates. I can see it from here—the split second where he almost pulls away. But Violet leans in, and then they're kissing, and the guests are applauding, and something about the kiss is wrong. It lasts too long. Three seconds, then four, then five. When they finally break apart, Derek's expression is unreadable. The officiant hands them a clipboard. Violet signs without looking at it. Derek signs. The officiant whispers something I can't hear, and Violet's face changes. The panic is gone. In its place is something smooth and controlled. She glances at the paper Derek just signed. Then she looks at me. The smile she gives me is one I've never seen before. It's not grateful. It's not relieved. It's triumphant. My phone buzzes in my lap. I glance down at the notification. *Congratulations to the happy couple! Marriage license filed and official. —County Clerk's Office.* I look up, my heart suddenly pounding. Derek is staring at the clipboard in his hands, his face gone white.