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I (28,F) stood by the gift table, the white lace of my wedding dress brushing against the crisp linen tablecloth. My new husband, Liam, was across the room, talking to his grandfather. For a moment, everything was perfect. The air smelled like roses and cake, and the low hum of happy conversation filled the reception hall. It was the day I had dreamed of, a bubble of joy I wished could last forever. Then my Aunt Clara approached, her smile tight and painted on, a familiar expression that always made the small hairs on my arms stand up. She was holding a small, polished wooden box. It was dark cherry wood, simple and elegant, and I recognized it instantly. It had always sat on my mother’s dresser. Aunt Clara pressed it into my hands. Her fingers were cold. “Your mother left this for your wedding day,” she said, her voice a little too loud, drawing the attention of a few nearby guests. “She always said you were to open it when you were starting your new life.” Tears pricked my eyes. My mother had passed away three years ago, and the ache of her absence was a constant, quiet companion. On a day like today, it was a sharp pain. Holding the box, I felt a wave of love and grief wash over me. I could almost feel my mother’s presence, her warm hand on mine. I clutched the box to my chest, a sob catching in my throat. This was her way of being here with me. It was the most precious gift I could imagine. I looked up at my aunt, my vision blurry. “Thank you, Clara,” I managed to say. “Thank you so much for keeping this safe for me.” Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “Of course, dear. Family takes care of family.” I was about to ask Liam to come over, to share this moment with me, when a commotion started near the entrance of the hall. A man in a severe grey suit was speaking in a low, insistent tone to the wedding planner. He was tall and imposing, with a briefcase clutched in one hand. He looked completely out of place among the cheerful pastels and joyful faces of our guests. He pushed past the planner, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory focus. They landed on our little group by the gift table. Specifically, they landed on the wooden box in my hands.