On My Wedding Day, I Married Someone Else Chapter 15

On My Wedding Day, I Married Someone Else Chapter 15

The first couple of months. Derek really did try. Hospital every day after work. Clumsily made soup. Helped change my dressings.

Then my external wounds healed. But the nerve damage was permanent. Rain. Fatigue. My back would seize. I couldn’t straighten up.

Derek’s patience ran out.

“You’re better now, aren’t you? Why are you still so delicate? You were never this fragile before.”

“Tiffany’s got something going on. Light in her apartment broke. She can’t handle it alone. I need to go take a look. You’ll be fine, right?”

Eventually, he couldn’t even remember my physical therapy appointment dates.

“I already said I’d marry you. Give you a big wedding. What more do you want? Isn’t that enough?”

Derek seemed to finally understand. That scar wasn’t some love trophy. It was proof. I’d put my life on the line for him.

After the hospital. I started taking every freelance job I could. Late nights. Overtime. Saving every dollar to buy that house. To build our home with my own hands.

A home in this city. Our own. That was the promise he’d made me with half my life. And he sold it. Cheap.

On the drive back. Tiffany tried to comfort him. Derek violently cranked the radio.

When the random shuffle landed on “The Dance,” he jerked. My favorite Garth Brooks song.

In the glove box. A lyric card. Written in my handwriting.

“Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain. But I’d have had to miss the dance.”

Derek pulled over. Buried his head in the steering wheel. And sobbed like a child abandoned by the world. The horn blared. A long, mournful wail.

I’m sorry, Savannah.

I was wrong. I was so wrong.

But it was too late.