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On the morning I needed my husband beside me, I found him on a wedding livestream, walking a young woman down the aisle. Ava was the daughter Martin had hidden from me for twenty-four years, and the veil pinned to her hair belonged to my late mother. Across the reception, her mother looked straight at me. I canceled everything, packed a bag, and left. Martin still believed I'd come back. Then my doctor called with the biopsy results.