My Husband Died on Our Wedding Day… But Seven Days After His Funeral, I Heard His Voice on a Bus

Part 8: The Wedding Photograph

Márk insisted that we get off at the next stop.

We entered a small café across from the station and sat at a table near the back.

He looked exhausted.

“Anna, you need to understand something. Éva doesn’t know everything.”

“Then tell me everything.”

He hesitated.

I took out my phone and opened our wedding photographs.

I had looked at those pictures every day since his funeral.

There we were, smiling beneath the lights. Our families stood behind us. Friends raised their glasses. Everyone looked happy.

I enlarged a photograph taken just before the ceremony.

“Look at this.”

Márk leaned closer.

I pointed toward a man standing near the entrance.

It was Gábor, his business partner.

Gábor had been one of the first people to visit me after the funeral. He had hugged me, brought flowers, and promised to help with anything I needed.

He had even helped organize the funeral arrangements.

Márk stared at the photograph.

“That’s impossible.”

“What?”

“He told me he would be out of the country that day.”

I looked at him.

“Apparently, he wasn’t.”