The day I found my wedding dress missing is etched in my memory with a clarity that surprises me even now. I had spent months imagining how it would feel to step into that dress, to glide down the aisle toward the person I had chosen to spend my life with. Every detail mattered: the fabric, the cut, the way it fell against my body. It wasn’t just about appearances—it was about embodying a dream I had nurtured for years.

The night before the wedding, my house was filled with excitement and nervous energy. My family moved from room to room, making last-minute arrangements, checking decorations, and fussing over minor details that, in hindsight, mattered less than we thought. Stacey, my twin sister, was unusually attentive that evening, helping me hang the dress carefully in its garment bag, smoothing out creases, and commenting on how perfect it looked. I felt a rare moment of closeness with her, though I didn’t realize that beneath her smiles, a storm was brewing that would completely upend the day I had been anticipating.