In 20 years of performing weddings, I thought I’d seen everything. Then I read a bride’s vows and spotted three faint words scribbled between the lines: “Help me. Please help me.” Her smile was tight, her hands trembling. When I met her eyes, I knew she meant it.
At the moment I asked if anyone objected, I took a breath and said, “I do.” The church erupted in gasps. The groom’s face turned red with fury, but I looked only at her. “Do you want to leave?” I asked gently. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “Yes.”
I led her out of the church and, behind closed doors, she told me the truth: her marriage had been arranged, and her fiancé controlled everything her phone, her friends, even her freedom. She had slipped that message into her vows as her last hope.
With the help of a women’s shelter, she found safety and began a new life. Weeks later, a bouquet of white lilies arrived at the church with a note that read: “Thank you for seeing me when no one else would.” That day, I learned a wedding isn’t always the beginning of a life together. Sometimes, it’s the chance for a life to finally begin again.
