The Reading of the Will
The Guest in Green

A Name From the Past

August 25, 2026 · Part 2 of 10 · 2 min

For one absurd second, Roz thought she recognized the dress before she recognized the woman. Then Weston's hand went rigid in hers, and she understood the order was supposed to be reversed.

"Delphine," he said, and the color left his face so fast Roz felt it happen through his skin against hers.

Whispers rippled outward from the head table like a stone dropped in still water. Someone near the bar said the name again, testing it. Priya Anand, Roz's maid of honor, was already on her feet three seats down, burgundy skirt fisted in one hand.

"Who is that?" Roz asked. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

"Nobody. Someone from college." Weston stood, chair scraping. "Delphine, this isn't — you shouldn't be here."

"I wasn't invited," Delphine Voss said, walking forward at an unhurried pace that made the parting crowd look almost choreographed. Her auburn hair was pulled back simply; she wore no makeup, nothing to soften the moment, as if she'd decided plainness was its own kind of weapon. "I wasn't going to come at all. I told myself I wouldn't."

"Then why are you here?" Roz stood now too, still holding the bouquet she'd caught three hours earlier, its ribbon suddenly absurd in her fist.

Delphine stopped six feet from the head table. Close enough that everyone could see exactly how far along she was. Close enough that no one in that ballroom could pretend, afterward, that they hadn't seen it clearly.

"Because in six weeks I'm having his baby," she said, "and I was not going to let him say his vows without one person in this room knowing the truth."

The silence that followed had a texture to it, thick and physical. Somewhere behind Roz, a champagne flute hit the floor and didn't break, just rolled, impossibly loud, in a slow circle across the parquet.

Weston's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Roz turned to him, waiting — praying — for the denial. Instead she watched something close behind his eyes, a door shutting on a room he didn't want her to see inside.

"Weston," she said. "Tell her she's wrong."

He didn't.

Continue the story Part 3: The Phone She Wouldn't Put Away →

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