Weddings are supposed to be joyful occasions, but as I watched Shanize walk down the aisle, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Something felt off, though I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. When I finally stepped forward to lift her gown, the shock of what I saw froze me in place.
I’ve known Dave for over 30 years. We grew up together, sharing secrets and navigating the awkwardness of our teenage years. So when he announced he was marrying Shanize, a stunning and graceful woman he had met a year ago, I was genuinely happy for him. I never thought anyone could settle him down, but here we were on his wedding day.
The ceremony was picture-perfect—almost too perfect. Shanize looked like she had stepped out of a bridal magazine, her elegant white dress flowing as she moved gracefully down the aisle. I should have been lost in the beauty of the moment, but something still felt wrong.
At first, I dismissed it as wedding nerves. After all, it’s a big day, and nerves are common. But then I noticed her steps; they weren’t steady or confident. Instead, they seemed small and hesitant, as if she were struggling.
Leaning over to Dave’s sister, Heather, I whispered, “Do you see that? She’s walking strangely.”
Heather glanced down the aisle and shrugged. “You’re overthinking it. She’s just nervous.”
I tried to convince myself she was right, but as Shanize drew closer to the altar, my unease intensified. Her steps were slow and almost labored.
Unable to ignore it any longer, I whispered again, “Something’s wrong, Heather.”
“Stop it, Janice,” she snapped. “You’ll ruin the moment.”
I looked back at Dave, who was standing at the altar, beaming with excitement. When our eyes met, he gave me a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Can you believe it?” I smiled back, but deep down, tension was building.
As Shanize neared the altar, someone behind me whispered, “She’s gliding.” A chill ran down my spine. Gliding—that was it. She wasn’t walking like a bride should.
“I have to check,” I muttered, stepping forward despite Heather’s frantic pleas for me to stop.
My heart raced as I knelt down, carefully lifting the hem of Shanize’s gown. What I saw beneath was so shocking that for a moment, I couldn’t comprehend it.
Men’s shoes. Large, polished men’s shoes.
I blinked, trying to make sense of it. Looking closer, I noticed the fabric of suit pants partially hidden by the dress. Slowly, my gaze traveled upward, and I saw it—the truth glaring back at me. This wasn’t Shanize.
It was a man. A man in a wig, wearing a veil that obscured his face, but now that I was close, the disguise was painfully obvious.
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