Weddings are meant to be moments of pure joy, but as I watched Shanize make her way down the aisle, a knot tightened in my stomach. Something was wrong—deeply wrong—and I couldn’t shake the feeling. By the time I stepped forward to lift her gown, the truth I uncovered left me paralyzed in shock.
I’ve known Dave for over thirty years. We grew up together, sharing secrets, enduring awkward teenage years side by side. So when he told me he was marrying Shanize—an elegant, captivating woman he’d met just a year ago—I was thrilled. Dave had always been the life of the party, the eternal bachelor, and I was genuinely happy that he’d finally found someone to settle down with.
The ceremony was breathtaking—every detail perfect. Shanize glided down the aisle in her wedding gown, a vision of beauty. But something about the way she moved caught my attention. Her steps weren’t poised; they were small, uncertain, almost labored. At first, I thought it was just nerves—after all, weddings can be overwhelming. But as she drew closer to the altar, my unease only grew.
“Do you see that?” I whispered to Dave’s sister, Heather.
“See what?” she asked, her gaze darting toward Shanize.
“She’s walking… strange. Something’s not right,” I said, trying to keep my voice low.
Heather shrugged and glanced at the aisle. “You’re overthinking it. She’s just nervous. Don’t ruin the moment.”
I tried to dismiss the feeling, but it lingered, stronger with each step Shanize took. Her walk seemed… unnatural. I couldn’t look away from the hem of her gown, the way it shifted as though something beneath it wasn’t quite right.
“She’s gliding,” someone whispered from behind me, and that word—gliding—sent a chill through me. I leaned in toward Heather again. “Did you hear that? Gliding. That’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Janice, stop,” Heather hissed, her voice sharp with warning. “You’re going to embarrass Dave. Just let it go.”
But I couldn’t let it go. My feet moved before my mind could stop them. I stepped forward, ignoring Heather’s frantic attempts to pull me back. As Shanize reached the altar, I bent down and lifted the hem of her gown—just a few inches.
What I saw made my blood run cold.
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