At 28, I felt like I had the world at my feet. I had a great career, wonderful friends, and a close-knit family. The best thing of all, I was weeks away from saying “I do” to the Damian, the man I adored.
From the moment I met him, he made my life complete, and despite the fact that his family was not fond of me, we decided to marry.
He went through a lot when he told his parents he was dating me. For reasons unknown, they didn’t see me as a good fit for their son and tried to ruin our relationship.
On the day of our wedding, Damian collapsed at the church, and he never woke up. What was supposed to be the best day of my life turned into a nightmare and a heartbreak I though I could never recover from.
They blamed me for his passing, and it was more than I could bear.
Some days later, I tried to escape my pain, called a taxi, and decided to wander around the city until I could figure out what to do next.
But the moment I entered the taxi, I heard a familiar voice. “Fasten your seatbelt.” It was Damian. He was right there in front of me, very much alive.
At that moment, I thought I was going mad. “But… you died,” I said, shocked and barely able to speak.
He pulled the car and explained everything. His family, who was very rich and powerful, got involved in some shady business and wanted to drag him with them. That was one of the reasons they disliked me, because with me by his side, they couldn’t manipulate Damian into doing the “dirty” businesses they got themselves into.
So, in order to protect us, he did the unimaginable. He fakes his own death.
It turned out that on the wedding day, he took a special drug that slowed his heart, allowing him to stage the collapse, the hospital visit, and even the funeral. The coffin was empty—I had mourned a man who hadn’t actually died.
I was mad, angry, crying. Although I knew that he did what he did for the sake of our happiness, I couldn’t get over the fact that I endured pain thinking he was dead.
He begged me to forgive him, asking me to start over somewhere away from the city where we lived.
I wasn’t sure if I could forgive him. I needed time to process everything.
After a couple of months, I called him. I was still mad, but I couldn’t picture my life without him.
Today, we live quietly by the sea, away from anyone who knows our past.
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Love and Peace
