I never forgot it.
As an adult, I promised myself that one day, I would own a place nobody could suddenly take away.
A farmhouse.
A garden.
Maybe chickens.
Enough acreage that I could stand outside in the morning and hear nothing but wind.
By the time I met Marcus, I had saved nearly $180,000.
Then his business began collapsing.
And I chose him.
I transferred almost all of it into his company.
Marcus cried when I told him.
He said he would repay every dollar.
I told him we were building a future together and that there was no difference between his dream and mine anymore.
Looking back, I think that sentence was the reason what happened next hurt so much.
At the reception, Sophie was still talking.
“She has a really pretty house,” she said.
I stared at her.
“You’ve been there?”
“One time.”
My heart began hammering.
“With your dad?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What did you do there?”
“The lady showed us rooms.”
Rooms.
I forced myself to breathe normally.
“What kind of rooms?”
Sophie licked frosting from her thumb.
“Just house rooms.”
Then she smiled brightly.
“Daddy let me choose mine.”
I felt something cold spread through my chest.
“Your room?”
“Yeah. Mine’s upstairs.”
Before I could ask another question, one of the other children called her name.
Sophie ran away.
I remained crouched beside an empty table.
Across the lawn, Marcus was standing beneath the lights with one hand in his pocket, talking to my brother.
He looked happy.
Relaxed.
Handsome.
My husband.
My husband of less than three hours.
And suddenly I couldn’t stop wondering whether he had married me while preparing another life somewhere else.
My best friend Tessa found me a few minutes later.
“You look like you’ve seen a body.”
I looked at Marcus.
Then at Sophie.
“Not here.”
Tessa’s expression changed instantly.
“What happened?”
“Later.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
But I wasn’t going to destroy my own wedding without knowing what I was destroying it over.
So I smiled.
I cut the cake.
I danced with my husband.
I posed for photographs.
I kissed him when guests clinked their glasses.
And every time Marcus whispered that he loved me, one sentence played in my head.
Daddy goes to see a lady every Saturday.
That night, Marcus fell asleep almost immediately.
I didn’t.
At 1:38 a.m., I slipped out of bed wearing one of his old T-shirts and carried his laptop downstairs.
