When my sister Beth got engaged after attending a wellness retreat, I was overjoyed—but also a little surprised. Beth had always been a romantic, the type to believe in fairy tale endings. After a devastating breakup a few years earlier, she’d lost that spark. So when she returned from Arizona talking about a man named Nathaniel who had “healed her heart,” we were hopeful—even if it all seemed to be happening too fast.

Beth had always been beautifully intense—creative, emotional, and quick to fall in love. Her breakup with Marcus, who cheated on her and mocked her for being “too dreamy,” left her shattered. After months of isolation, she went away to find herself again.

When she came back, she seemed lighter, happier. And suddenly, she was engaged. Nathaniel, she said, was from overseas. Due to visa issues, they needed to marry quickly. But no one had met him. She had reasons—he was shy, he hated photos, he wanted their first meeting with us to be special.

We questioned it, but gently. Beth seemed genuinely happy for the first time in years. The wedding day arrived, and everything looked beautiful—except Beth. She was glowing, yes, but there was a frantic edge to her energy.