THE VOW

THE MOVE-IN

The house was too cheap.

That should have been my first clue.

Four bedrooms. Three and a half baths. Private lake view in Milton, Georgia. On Zillow, houses on this street were going for $1.2 million minimum.

We got it for $780,000.

"Estate sale," my husband Kevin said, his hand tight on the wheel as we turned into the gates. "The owner died. Family wants to keep it legacy. Couples only."

"Couples only?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He was staring at the sign.

*THE VOW AT MILTON*

_Six Homes. One Vow._

Six houses in a perfect circle around a lake. Black mailboxes. White oak trees. Manicured like a magazine shoot. And in every driveway, a couple standing there. Waiting for us.

That was the second clue. They were all waiting.

A woman in her seventies floated toward us. Silver hair, pearls, smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You must be Zuri and Kevin," she said. She hugged me like she knew me. She smelled like gardenias and bleach. "I'm Eleanor Ellison. I started this community. We have been praying for House One to be filled."

House One. Ours.

"June 14th?" she asked, looking at Kevin.

Kevin beamed. "Yes ma'am. June 14th, 2024."

The other couples gasped. Then they laughed. All at once.

"What are the odds!" said a beautiful woman in yellow. "I'm Simone, House Two. June 14th, 2021."

"Priya, House Three. June 14th, 2022," said the next.

"Monique, House Four, June 14th, 2020."

"Chloe, House Five, June 14th, 2019."

"Lisa, House Six, June 14th, 2023."

Five wives. Five identical thin diamond bands. Not similar. The _exact same_ ring. On the same finger.

I looked at my ring. Mine was bigger. Newer.

Eleanor clapped. "See? You belong here. We all took our vows on the same blessed day."

Kevin squeezed my waist. "Told you, baby. We're home."

The house was beautiful. Too beautiful. Staged within an inch of its life. I do interior design for a living - I know when someone is trying to make you not look somewhere. The fresh paint in the upstairs hallway. The new screws on the attic hatch.

That night, we had our welcome dinner at House Two. All six couples.

I noticed three things.

One: None of the wives ate. They moved food around their plates. They drank wine. But they didn't eat.

Two: When Kevin went to the bathroom, Simone grabbed my arm under the table and whispered, "Don't let her do your anniversary dinner. Please."

Three: When I asked what happened to the previous owner of our house, the table went silent.

Eleanor answered. "She broke her vow. She left."

Later, Kevin was asleep. He always sleeps fast when he lies.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The AC vent above our bed kept rattling, even though the air was off.

I got the ladder from the garage.

The attic hatch was painted shut. Fresh white paint. I had to hit it with my palm to c***k it open.

Dust rained down.

The realtor said the attic was cleared. Empty and insulated.

It wasn't.

There were six white dress boxes. Wedding dress boxes. Stacked in a perfect row, like they were waiting too.

My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in the vent.

I pulled the first one down. It was light. The lid said size 6. My size.

Inside, a folded veil and a tag handwritten in cursive.

_SIMONE - HOUSE TWO - 2021 - RETURNED_

My fingers went cold.

Second box.

_PRIYA - HOUSE THREE - 2022 - RETURNED_

Third. _MONIQUE - 2020 - RETURNED_

Fourth. _CHLOE - 2019 - RETURNED_

Fifth. _LISA - 2023 - RETURNED_

Five dresses. Five wives who were downstairs right now, alive, laughing.

That left one box.

The last box was empty. No dress. Just a blank tag with a piece of tape holding a fresh black marker to it. The ink was still strong, like it was written today.

It said:

_ZURI - HOUSE ONE - 2024_

And underneath, in different handwriting, like someone else added it later:

_READY FOR RETURN_

From the vent below me, I heard a scratching sound. Like nails on metal. Coming from inside the wall.

And Kevin's voice from the bedroom, wide awake now.

"Babe? Who said you could go up there?"