On Claire and David’s wedding day, a mysterious old woman shows up on their driveway, ready to read Claire’s palm. Claire, not believing in the practice, is skeptical… until the old woman reveals details that are too accurate to be a hoax.
The morning of my wedding was everything I’d dreamed of. It was chaotic, I was buzzing with excitement, and it was filled with love.
My bridesmaids would be arriving soon, and we were planning on having a charcuterie board lunch with champagne on the side.
My dress was hanging in its garment bag, and I was marrying David, my best friend and the man who’d made me believe in forever. Our wedding was going to be different. David and I were getting married on a yacht at night, so really, we had the entire day to get ready for the rest of our lives…
At least, that’s what I thought.
I put on my face mask and stepped outside to meet the delivery man with my bouquet.
I had wanted it to be delivered at the last minute so that it would be perfect with no wilting buds.
But as I walked to the driveway, waiting for the delivery truck to come, I noticed her.
She was standing near the path that cut through my front yard. An elderly woman with weathered skin, wild gray hair, and clothes that looked as though they hadn’t been washed in weeks.
And still, despite her ragged appearance, her eyes were sharp, almost piercing. There was something unsettlingly calm about her.
“Child,” she called out, her voice soft but commanding.
“Come closer, Child.”
I hesitated. Every instinct told me to ignore her and go back inside, but something in her gaze made me stop. Against my better judgment, I walked toward her.
Maybe she was hungry. I could make her a cup of tea and a sandwich and let her go on her way.
It was my wedding day, after all. How would I send an old woman away?
“Let me see your hand, Child,” she said, reaching out.
“I want to read your palm. Let’s see what the lines on your palm have to say. Let’s uncover their secrets.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile.
“But I don’t really believe in that sort of thing.”
She smiled faintly.
“You don’t have to believe, my dear,” she said. “You just have to listen. Maybe something will resonate with you.”
Before I could protest, she reached out and gently took my hand.
Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so frail. I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t.
“The man you are about to marry,” she began, her voice low and deliberate as she traced one of the lines on my palm.
“Yes?” I asked.
“He has a mark on his right thigh? A heart-shaped birthmark, yes?”
I froze.
My stomach tightened. I hadn’t told anyone about David’s birthmark. How could she possibly know?
“And his mother?” she continued, her gaze unwavering.
“She wasn’t part of his life, no? She’s dead now, isn’t she?”
I nodded slowly, a chill running down my spine.
“How… how do you know that?”
Her expression darkened.
“Child, he’s going to ruin your life. But you still have a choice!
If you want to know the truth, look inside the stuffed rabbit he keeps in his closet.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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