My runaway bride reappeared ten years later in heels and a power suit, demanding I sign our divorce papers like we were just neighbors with unfinished business.
I consider myself a loner. Honestly, I still have a wife. She had just run away from our wedding ten years before.
Every year, I get the same envelope from her. New law firm name, new initials, glossy folder — just the way she likes it — a true aesthete, even in divorce proceedings.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I open it, read halfway through, sigh, and stash it in the drawer. There’s a whole collection, almost like a calendar, for every year of our “fake marriage.”
That morning, as usual, I was cleaning the barn. The snow had melted, the ground was soft, and the tractor refused to start again. My glove was torn; the dog had buried the other boot somewhere.
All, just as it should be. Quiet. Peaceful. The air smelled of fresh grass and smoke. I love that — it smells like life. Real life.
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I reached into the metal mailbox. An envelope. Gold initials. Oh, something new. She switched firms. Progress.
“Well, hello, Mel.”
The dog barked. We understood each other without words those days.
“Would you sign it, Johnny?” I asked my dog, sitting down on the porch with my coffee.
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He sneezed. Wise dog. While I was thinking, Billy dropped by. My childhood friend, a farmer who always smells like apples and diesel fuel.
“So, she sent you another ‘love letter’?” he smirked, setting a basket of fresh bread on the step.
“Yep. Volume Ten. Might auction them off someday.”
“Still not gonna sign?”
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“Nope. I’ve got a principle. If you want to end something — come and say it. No need to yell. Just be honest.”
Billy sighed, gave me a look like he wanted to say something — then changed his mind.
“I’ll get going. Looks like rain’s coming, and I didn’t bring a cover.”
“You’re wearing a leather jacket, Billy.”
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“That’s not a cover — it’s fashion.”
And he left, leaving me with my coffee, my dog, and yet another farewell letter.
I went back inside. Everything is in place. I tossed more logs into the stove. Scratched the dog behind the ear and turned on the radio — the only thing that hasn’t abandoned me over the years.
And then, I heard the sound.
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First — a low engine hum. Then — the familiar squeak of suitcase wheels. Then — high heels crunching on gravel. I stepped onto the porch. And saw her.
Melanie. Her hair was a bit shorter, but her eyes were the same. She had that look — like we saw each other yesterday, even though it’s been ten years.
“Hi, Jake.”
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I smiled. But something inside me clenched.
“Well. Finally decided to come and ask for an autograph in person?”
***
Melanie stepped across the threshold. Her eyes scanned the wedding photo on the mantel.
“You still keep that?” she nodded toward the frame.
“Yep. Nice photo. And the frame isn’t cheap either.”
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Her gaze drifted past the mantel to the plaid throw blanket on the armchair. It was the same one we used to fight over on rainy nights. Her fingers brushed it gently and then paused.
Melanie turned toward the kitchen shelves, where old jam jars stood in a neat row.
“Is that… blueberry?”
“Yeah. From that summer when the berries went wild behind the barn.”
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Melanie gave the faintest nod, but her eyes glistened before she looked away. Then she straightened her posture, smoothed her sleeve, and reached for her briefcase.
She sat at the table and pulled out the documents.
“Jake, I’m serious. My wedding’s in two months. I need everything signed.”
I sat down across from her.
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“The groom wants to make sure you’re officially single?”
“He thinks I’m single. So don’t make this harder than it is.”
“Have you ever been honest with me, Mel?”
“Oh, don’t start.”
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“Fine. Not starting. Just listening.”
She unfolded the papers and laid them out in front of me. I glanced at them.
“Old version. Outdated. Doesn’t even mention the farm.”
“Well, I thought…”
“That nothing had changed? Big surprise, huh?”
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She flared.
“Jake, I didn’t come here for your passive-aggressive lectures. I came because I’m tired of playing silent. I want to end this like an adult.”
“An adult comes sooner than ten years later. An adult doesn’t run off the night before the honeymoon and hide behind envelopes.”
She stood up. Her hands were trembling.
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“If it’s money you want — just say so. How much?”
“Money?” I laughed. “You think I waited ten years for a payout?”
“Then why, Jake?! Why haven’t you signed?”
“Because you still haven’t said why you ran. I have principles.”
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“Oh, Jake, it’s been years. Everything’s changed.”
I stood.
“Yeah, it has. I got my life together. Built something. A business. And by the way, I earned everything I had while we were still married. Officially. Legally. Even the lakeside lot. And those two cow-show trophies? Still during our marriage.”
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She stared at me silently.
“By law, half of it is yours,” I said. “But I’m not handing it over to someone who only dared to mail things once a year.”
“You… you’re blackmailing me?”
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“No. I’m giving you a choice. I’ll sign if you formally waive any claim. At a notary. All legal. But we’ll need to update the paperwork. That takes time.”
She sat back down. “Fine. How long?”
“A week. Maybe two. This isn’t New York. Around here, the internet runs through a tree.”
“Then I’m staying. Technically, it’s my house too.”
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“Technically — yes,” I sighed. “But you’re cooking dinner. I’m allergic to your flower petal salads.”
“And I’m allergic to dust and male ego.”
We stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then, I walked off toward the pantry to break eye contact. Melanie climbed upstairs — offended, with her briefcase under her arm like she’d come here to win, not to talk.
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I knew she wouldn’t survive that silence.
Truthfully, the papers were just an excuse to keep her here a little longer. So I could finally knock some sense into our marriage.
Because I still loved that infuriating woman. Whoever she had become.
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***
Days on the farm passed quickly, but our silence moved painfully slowly.
Melanie spent most of her days in town, hunting for a decent Wi-Fi signal. Meanwhile, I cleaned the house and the yard and planted flowers on the porch.
Billy dropped by one afternoon.
“This place hasn’t looked this good since your wedding, pal.”
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“Oh, I just… finally had some time for myself.”
“Careful, someone might fall for you.”
“Cut it out. Not Melanie. That’s long gone.”
Billy tilted his head and looked at me like I’d just said the sky was green.
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“Jake, don’t be a fool. She’s here. That means something.”
“She’s here because she wants a signature.”
“Then sign it. Or don’t. But for the love of bacon, talk to her. Ask her to dinner. Do something other than fixing fences and mumbling at your dog.”
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That evening, I found Melanie in the pantry. She was holding my box of documents.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not even raising my voice.
“Looking for tea. But I stumbled on this.”
“You always break into places where you’re not invited?”
“And you always hide what matters instead of talking about it?”
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“I wasn’t hiding. I was postponing. It wasn’t time yet.”
“Not time?! I’m getting married, Jake! Married! To a real, present, grown man!”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure he will be thrilled to hear his bride was digging through her legal husband’s pantry.”
“You just can’t accept that I left! That I changed! You hold on to the past like an old jacket that hasn’t fit in years!”
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“And you hold on to some fantasy version of yourself until you have to look yourself in the eye. Have you ever actually thought about what you did? I can’t believe the Melanie I loved could sleep at night after running away like that!”
“Oh, I slept just fine! I didn’t have to crawl under three blankets because someone never fixed the windows!”
“You never said anything bothered you! Not once!”
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“Oh, maybe because it was obvious?! You never asked what I wanted! I wanted more! A career! The city lights!”
“You could’ve told me. We could’ve sold this place and moved to New York together.”
“Oh yeah? And what about the money you poured into building this farm the day before the wedding? You think I didn’t see the contract? That was the final straw, Jake! You said nothing.”
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“And you did? You said nothing, either! About your dreams, about the windows!”
“I’ve had enough! No wonder I ran. I haven’t even been able to answer my fiancé for two days because there’s no signal here!”
“Oh. You probably connected to the broken router. I have two — forgot to mention.”
“You! How dare you!”
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She slammed the pantry door. The house went black — total darkness.
“What was that?” I frowned.
“I… may have knocked that old switch.”
“That ‘old switch’ was the main breaker. It’s broken now. Congratulations, Mel, we’re in the dark.”
“Wonderful! Magical!” she shouted. “No light, no water, no reason to live!”
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“Let’s not overreact,” I muttered, grabbing a flashlight.
I headed outside and built a fire. Melanie sat on the bench, wrapped in my old flannel shirt. No makeup. Hair hastily tied up. For the first time in days, she looked real.
“You hungry?” I asked, skewering some chicken.
“Starving. But if you offer me canned beans, I’ll run to the nearest motel.”
“Barbecue. Real fire. Your dad’s old recipe, actually.”
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She gave a slight nod.
“Mel…” I started but didn’t finish.
“Don’t. I don’t even know what to think. But it’s… peaceful here. Cozy, even. You’ve turned this place into something magical. I miss that in New York.”
“It’s not too late to stay. I always knew your soul was too wild and free for a city apartment, even if it’s a big one.”
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I chuckled. “Yeah… I only realized that after I got everything I ever wanted.”
“Well, there are plenty of forests and fields out here to calm the rebel in you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ran because I was scared I’d stay here forever. That my dreams would die under diapers, early mornings, and a farm you decided to build.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t going to make you a prisoner. I wanted to make you happy.”
We sat in silence. The fire crackled.
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Then, Melanie suddenly laughed.
“Remember when I burned your favorite sweater?”
“It was hideous.”
“But warm!” she giggled. “And it smelled like you.”
“Melanie… All these years, I couldn’t understand… why? We were so in love. I still…”
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Suddenly, headlights lit up the yard.
“You expecting someone?” I asked.
Melanie’s face went pale.
“No… No, it can’t be…”
Out stepped a tall man in a coat. Phone pressed to his ear. Slicked-back hair, judgmental stare. New York in human form.
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“Melanie! Finally, I found you!” he shouted. “What are you doing here with this…!”
Melanie opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off.
“You’ve got meetings this week. My assistant’s been trying to reach you. And my mother’s freaking out about the seating chart.”
“This…?” I raised an eyebrow. “This is her legal husband. For now.”
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He looked from me to her.
“What is this?! Some kind of joke?!”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said dryly. “Thought you knew.”
“Melanie! Pack your things. We’re leaving. We have a wedding to plan. Did you forget?”
Melanie stood frozen. Speechless.
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I calmly took a piece of grilled meat from the skewer, bit into it, and added,
“No rush, Mel. You’re hungry — eat first. And, sir… have a seat. Help yourself. The night’s just getting started.”
***
Packing was fast.
While Melanie was arguing with her fiancé in my yard, I sat quietly in my office, signing the papers. Calmly. Steadily. Only my hand trembled a little. Before she walked out the door, I handed her the documents.
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“Here. It’s all official now.”
She looked down at them. Then at me. Her eyes dropped.
“I’m sorry… I have to go.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Her hand was already on the doorknob when I stepped toward her.
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“But just tell me one thing. One simple thing.”
She froze.
“Is this really what you wanted? Are you truly happy?”
Silence.
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“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
And she left. But I already knew the answer.
I sat on the porch with my dog, watching the fire burn down.
Suddenly, I understood… I couldn’t make the same mistake twice. Ten years ago, I let her walk away. This time, I am going to fight. I grabbed my pickup keys and tore off into the night.
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I took the shortcut I’d built over the years — a road that led straight to town and the highway. It turns out it wasn’t built in vain.
Thirty minutes later, I burst into the airport like a madman.
The flight to New York… had already taken off. Too late. She’s gone. Again.
“Jake?”
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I turned around. Melanie stood there. Backpack slung over her shoulder, with tears in her eyes.
“I thought you’d flown…”
“And I thought one time running was enough. Twice would just be stupid.”
“And what stopped you?”
“The dog. I forgot to say goodbye to Johnny,” she said with a tiny grin.
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“The dog?” I laughed. “And here I thought it was my world-famous barbecue.”
“I realized halfway through the airport that I’ve never laughed with him. Not really. We make sense on paper. But we don’t… feel.”
We drove home together. On the way, she fell asleep leaning on my shoulder — like she used to back in college. On the porch, she pulled the divorce papers from her bag.
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She tore them in half. Then again. And again.
“Divorce officially canceled. But only if you promise never to wear sweaters in that color again. And help me move my stuff.”
“Man’s honor.”
The dog growled softly. And we walked inside. It was warm there. And quiet. And no one was in a rush to leave ever again.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I spent $30,000 trying to become a Mom, only to hear my mother-in-law call my adopted kids “fake” in front of guests. I stayed quiet then. But not for long.
My Husband Died on Our Wedding Day – If Only I Knew He Fooled Us All
I thought I was living my dream when I married Damian, but it all turned into a nightmare before the reception. I ended up burying my husband three days after our wedding, only to come face-to-face with him behind the wheel of a taxi.
This isn’t something I can tell the people around me, so I have to use the anonymity of the internet for it. You can call me Paige. I’m 28, and just a few months ago, I was the picture-perfect bride.
A beautiful bride | Source: Midjourney
But my soulmate, whom you may call Damian, died after we said I do. They say life flashes before your eyes when you’re going to die, but our entire relationship flashed before mine as I saw him drop to the ground.
Damian and I met at a small café where I used to work part-time. He was one of those quiet, polite customers who always tipped well and read a book while drinking coffee.
A man with a book in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
I’d had a crush on him since I first saw him. But when he asked me out, I was shocked. He was gorgeous with his sharp cheekbones, warm hazel eyes, and quiet confidence.
I was just an average girl from a lower middle-class family, so I couldn’t believe he was interested in me. But he was, and from our first date walking on a local pier, it felt like we were meant to be.
A couple on a pier | Source: Midjourney
Just a year later, we were standing at the altar in front of our closest friends. It was the happiest day of my life. Damian couldn’t stop smiling at me as I cried while reading my vows. We were about to start the next amazing chapter of our lives together.
But that dream ended abruptly. Before the reception, while taking some pictures with friends, Damian suddenly collapsed. At first, I thought he was joking. But when he didn’t get up, I froze.
People surrounded him, and someone called 911. The paramedics worked on him right there on the dance floor, but nothing they did worked.
A man on the floor | Source: Midjourney
They rushed him to the hospital, and I followed them in a daze. A doctor came out hours later, his face grim, and told me Damian didn’t make it. They said it was a heart attack. He was only 32 years old. How does a healthy man just die like that?
I could barely hold myself together the following days. It was all a blur until the funeral when his family showed up. I’d only met them once before, and that one meeting was enough.
Damian had warned me about them but hadn’t told me everything. His adoptive parents were snobbish and controlling. But one of Damian’s friends, Adam, confessed to me that they were also filthy rich.
Two people talking closely | Source: Midjourney
“Damian didn’t tell you about his family’s wealth because he didn’t want it to affect how you saw him,” he said in a low voice.
I honestly never knew despite him telling me he had a successful business. Yet, it made sense. That also had to be why they didn’t approve of our relationship. I wasn’t from the “right” kind of family and Damian hadn’t invited them to our wedding.
But now they were here and spent the entire service throwing daggers at me with their eyes. I overheard his mother whisper to someone, “She was probably after his money and caused his death. Get our lawyer on the phone.”
An angry older couple | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to yell that I didn’t even know Damian had a lot of money, let alone want it. But what good would it do? They’d already made up their minds about me, and I just didn’t have the energy to fight anyone.
***
Three days after the funeral, I couldn’t take the grief and the emptiness anymore. My apartment felt suffocating as every corner held a memory of Damian.
The sadness was overwhelming and was giving me strange thoughts. On top of that, his family had started to call me. I never answered, but their voice messages were terrifying.
A home phone | Source: Midjourney
I needed to get away, so I threw some clothes into a small suitcase, grabbed my passport, and called a taxi. My plan wasn’t fully formed. I just knew I had to leave the city or country. Maybe I’d go to Mexico or Aruba. Anywhere that wasn’t here.
When the taxi pulled up, I climbed into the backseat and stared out the window. I barely noticed the driver as I settled into the leather and tried to breathe deeply.
“Fasten your seatbelt, please,” the driver suddenly said.
A man driving a taxi | Source: Midjourney
I froze. My chest tightened, and my heart started pounding. That voice was Damian’s. I whipped my head around and focused on the rearview mirror. Those eyes. Those unmistakable hazel eyes.
“Damian?” I croaked. “But…? How? How are you here? What?”
My words made no sense, but suddenly, he swerved the car away from the road toward the highway and parked on a quiet street. For a moment, he didn’t say anything.
A taxi near a highway | Source: Midjourney
I could see his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly like he was bracing himself for something. Then he turned around and looked right at me.
“I’m sorry, Paige,” he said softly without any preamble. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll explain everything. Please don’t hate me.”
I sat with wide eyes and an open mouth for the entirety of Damian’s explanation. It was too much to believe.
A woman in the backseat looking shocked | Source: Midjourney
First, he told me about his family. They adopted him as a teenager and used his brilliance to expand their shady business empire, which was failing spectacularly before him. Eventually, he became the brains behind some of their most successful (and probably illegal) ventures.
For a while, he was just glad that he had proud parents and could contribute to the family who had given him a home when no one else would. But he grew tired of the illegal things.
A teen using the computer while an older woman overlooks | Source: Midjourney
Damian knew it was only a matter of time before they were caught, and he didn’t want to be left with nothing. So, he started a legit business and grew it into such a success that he decided not to work with his family anymore.
That’s when they turned on him. They wanted to control this venture, but Damian managed to put their threats off until he met me. Well, their shady business was also failing without him.
So, they threatened to ruin me and our lives if Damian didn’t give them a piece of the cake.
An old man yelling on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“I couldn’t let them touch you,” Damian said, rubbing his face. “They would’ve destroyed you to get to me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I made them believe I was dead.”
He went on to explain how he staged everything. There’s apparently a medication that can slow your heart rate so much that it mimics death. With the help of a professional fixer who knew the right people to pay off, he faked the collapse, the hospital pronouncement, and even the funeral.
Money exchanging hands | Source: Midjourney
When I asked how he escaped his grave, Damian laughed and said he wasn’t in the coffin at all. He had to be there for the viewing service, but the fixer got his people to take him out at some point without anyone noticing.
I didn’t know what to say when he finished. Was I in a George Clooney heist movie?
“I know I hurt you,” he said as his eyes watered. “But I did it for us. I couldn’t let them win.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out, so we stayed in that cab on that quiet road for hours without speaking, except for a few whispered, “I’m sorry.”
A man in a taxi looking sad | Source: Midjourney
Finally, when night fell, I asked him to take me home.
It was there that the dam unleashed. I spent hours yelling while he tried to justify his actions. “YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD!” I cried out.
“I’m so sorry, baby!”
“DON’T CALL ME BABY!”
A woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
By the morning, I was all cried out, and my voice was hoarse, but I finally asked, “What now?” It wasn’t like we could go back to how things were. He was supposed to be dead. His family could easily see him here.
Damian then explained his idea for the future. By faking his death, he ensured that all his legitimately earned assets were transferred to me. His family couldn’t touch them now. All I needed to do now was to sell and split it with him.
A computer showing scanned bank statements | Source: Midjourney
But soon enough, he was moving abroad for good. I was shaking my head, still in disbelief, when he asked me something outrageous.
“I know that I hurt you terribly, but is there any way you’d want to come with me?” he asked.
I scoffed and remained quiet for a long time, but eventually, I answered.
“I can’t just pick up where we left off, even in another country,” I told him. “I’ll do whatever you need with the assets and the money, but you broke my heart. I don’t think I can trust you enough to start over. I need space.”
A woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
He nodded seriously. “I understand. Take all the space and time you need. I have to leave later today. But I’m not giving up on us, Paige. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”
Before Damian left, he left me his contact information and promised to check in when he could.
For the next few weeks, I was furious. I didn’t respond to his texts. But I did start arranging to sell his business and consolidate assets. That brought some trouble with his parents, who wanted to claim what Damian had left me after his “death.”
I had to see them several times in the presence of lawyers, and they were scary people.
Angry older couple in a lawyer’s office | Source: Midjourney
But there was nothing they could do legally to take anything from me, and my attorneys weren’t afraid of them. So, his parents were forced to back off, and I was free to sell what I needed.
When all was said and done, I started to see what Damian had done as the right choice. He was protecting himself and me from them. It was reckless and stupid but also selfless.
Weeks later, I realized something: I still loved him. Despite what he put me through, my heart hadn’t let go. I picked up my phone and dialed his number.
A woman in bed using a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Paige?” he answered, pleasantly surprised.
“Where are you?” I asked. “I’ll go there, but never do that to me again.”
And that was it. Now, I’m in another country where they speak an entirely different language, but the beach is 30 minutes away.
I had to give up everything, and it was worth it. Damian and I had another wedding and actually got to enjoy it this time. His parents won’t ever find us, and we’re living our best life.
A woman on the beach with a man behind her | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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