15
Today should have been Esther’s first wedding anniversary. Instead, she’d spent this day last year recovering from her first round of chemo. Memories stabbed her and throbbed. She lay on her right side. Then on her left. Finally, she turned onto her back. She plumped up the pillow under her head, but the problem wasn’t the pillow. It was the memories.
Victory Church wasn’t the typical family-style church. It was a megachurch, and her father had insisted on a megawedding. Mum had laboured over five bridesmaid dresses, and the catering was to have been first-rate. Her wedding dress must still be in the back of the cupboard at her parents’ place. How beautiful it had made her look.
Esther flipped onto her stomach. Would sleep ever come?
Maybe she could escape the memories if she did a
