"Good to meet you, Uncle," Amelia said softly.
The words were polite, composed, perfectly appropriate.
And yet, the moment they left her lips, something sharp and aching pierced her chest.
She was calling her own father uncle.
Amelia kept her smile steady, graceful, exactly as a bride should. No one could tell that beneath the serene curve of her lips, her heart was trembling violently. Sorrow and gratitude tangled together, winding tight around her ribs. This was the price of protection. The cost of love. The sacrifice her parents had chosen so she could stand here today — safe, cherished, and loved without being hunted by shadows.
Mr. Zim looked at her for a long, quiet moment.
"What a lovely bride," he finally said.
His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed him. They glistened,
