When I married Damian, I believed I had found my happily ever after. But before the reception even started, that dream became a nightmare. We were married, and I buried my spouse three days later. However, weeks later, I saw him driving a cab.
I’m using the anonymity of the internet because I can’t discuss this publicly. I’m known as Paige. I’m 28 years old, and I was the ideal bride just a short time ago.
I worked part-time at a tiny café where Damian and I met. He was one of those reserved, courteous patrons who always brought a book with them and left a large tip. I fell in love the instant I laid eyes on him. He was pleasant and beautiful, and I couldn’t believe he was interested in someone as normal as me, so I was shocked when he finally asked me out.
We hit it off right away, and our connection developed naturally. We were prepared to start our lives together when we stood at the altar a year later. As I read my vows with tears in my eyes, Damian couldn’t stop grinning at me. Before it wasn’t, it was the happiest day of my life.
Damian abruptly passed out while we were shooting pictures with friends prior to the reception. I initially assumed he was kidding, but as he failed to get up, I became alarmed. When paramedics arrived, they attempted to treat him immediately, but to no avail. I followed in a fog as they hurried him to the hospital. A doctor broke the heartbreaking news that Damian had not survived a few hours later. They stated it was a heart attack. He was just thirty-two.
I was barely able to function in the days that followed. It all seemed unreal. His adoptive parents’ presence made the funeral even more of a haze. Damian had warned me about their domineering and snooty attitudes during our one-on-one encounter. One of Damian’s acquaintances told me that they were also extremely wealthy, which I was unaware of.
I never heard about their money from Damian. Instead of loving him for his possessions, he wanted me to love him for himself. His parents, however, were suddenly staring at me as if I were a money digger who had planned his demise. I heard his mother murmuring that they should hire a lawyer. I was too devastated to defend myself.
I was at my breaking point three days after the funeral. Memories of Damian haunted my flat, making it feel like a jail. I quickly packed a suitcase, got my passport, and hailed a cab since I was desperate to get out. My plan was hazy; I might travel somewhere other than here, like Mexico or Aruba.
I got into the backseat of the cab without really focusing on the driver when it arrived. The voice at the front startled me as I was getting comfortable: “Please fasten your seatbelt.”
Damian’s voice was heard.
I locked eyes with him and glanced at the rearview mirror, my heart pounding. “Damian?” I could hardly speak, so I whispered. He turned around and looked directly into my shocked eyes after pulling the car over to a quiet street.
With a guilty expression on his face, he murmured quietly, “I can explain.” “Don’t hate me, please.”
The explanation that came next sounded like something out of a thriller film. Damian disclosed that he had been exploited by his adoptive parents to establish their dubious economic empire. They turned against him as he attempted to disassociate himself from their illicit actions. When he met me, their threats intensified; they were prepared to ruin me in order to take back control of Damian.
His remedy? Pretend he’s dead. He planned everything, even the breakdown at our wedding and his disappearance following the funeral, with the assistance of a fixer. In order to prevent his parents from accessing them, he even succeeded in transferring all of his rightful assets to me.
With sadness in his eyes, he continued, “I did it to protect you.” “I couldn’t allow them to destroy your life.”
I couldn’t decide whether to cry or yell. Even though I was devastated and incensed, I had a tiny understanding of why he had done it. After he took me home, we argued for hours. I shouted about how cruel he was to let me believe he was dead and about the suffering he had given me. His voice shaking as he attempted to defend his conduct, he apologized repeatedly.
I was emotionally spent by dawn. “Now what?” I inquired. Damian outlined his strategy: I would sell his company and possessions to provide him with the funds to relocate elsewhere. He promised to put things right and invited me to accompany him. However, I wasn’t prepared to pardon him.
I said, “I need time.” “I am unable to simply continue where we left off. You betrayed my confidence.
He gave a serious nod. “Take as much time as you require. I’ll hold off.
I spent the following few weeks trying to sell Damian’s possessions while thwarting his parents’ attempts to seize his estate. Though exhausting, the process helped me gain perspective. Despite his recklessness, Damian’s actions were motivated by love. He had put everything on the line to keep me safe from his family’s fury.
I came to the realization one night that I still loved him. In spite of all, my heart was unable to relax. I took out my phone and called him.
When he responded, I inquired, “Where are you?” “You can never do this to me again, but I’m coming to you.”
Now, Damian and I live in a different nation. With the ghosts of his past banished, we held a private wedding. We are at last free to live our lives as we see fit, and his parents will never discover us. Although it wasn’t the fairy tale I had in mind, it is our story and should be written by us.
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