It was Karl.
Alive.
Pale.
Exhausted.
But undeniably real.
Before I could scream, he leaned closer and whispered:
“Don’t scream. You need to know the whole truth.”
My voice barely worked.
“You died at our wedding.”
“I had to,” he said quietly. “I did it for us.”
“What the heck are you talking about? I buried you.”
A couple sitting across the aisle glanced toward us.
Karl lowered his voice further.
“Please. Just listen. My parents cut me off years ago because I refused to join the family business. I wanted my own life. They said I was throwing away everything they’d built.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
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