I thought it was my dream when I married Damian, but it all transformed into a nightmare before the reception.
I ended up burying my husband three days after our wedding, only to come directly with him behind the wheel of a taxi.
This isn’t something I can tell the people around me, so I have to apply the anonymity of the internet for it.
You can call me Paige.
I’m 28, and just a few months ago, I was a happy bride.
But my soulmate, whom you may call Damian, passed away after we said I do.
They say life flashes before your eyes when you’re going to pass away, 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.
I’d had a crush on him since I first saw him.
Just a year later, we were standing at the altar in front of our closest friends.
It was the happiest day of my life.
But that dream ended suddenly. 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 circled him, and someone called 911. The paramedics worked on him right there on the dance floor, but nothing they did worked.
They rushed him to the hospital, and I followed them in a daze. They said it was a heart att.ack.
He was only 32 years old.
It was all a disaster until the funeral when his family appeared. I’d only met them once before, and that one meeting was enough.
Damian had concerned me about them but hadn’t told me everything. His adoptive parents were snobbish and controlling.
“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.
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 passing. Get our lawyer on the phone.”
They’d already made up their minds about me, and I just didn’t have the energy to combat 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 thought.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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