I thought I was living my dream when I married Damian, but it all turned into a nightmare before the reception. I ended up burying my husband three days after our wedding, only to come face to face with him behind the wheel of a taxi.
This is not something I can tell the people around me, so I have to use the anonymity of the Internet for it. You can call me Paige. I am 28 years old and, just a few months ago, I was the perfect bride.
But my soul mate, whom you can call Damian, died after we accepted each other as spouses. They say that life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die, but our whole relationship flashed before mine when I saw him fall to the floor.
Damian and I met in a small café where I worked part-time. He was one of those quiet, polite customers who always tipped well and read a book while drinking coffee.
I had fallen in love with him from the first time I saw him. But when he asked me out, I was stunned. He was so handsome, with his sharp cheekbones, his warm hazel eyes and his quiet confidence.
I was just an ordinary girl from a lower middle class family, so I couldn’t believe he was interested in me. But he was, and from our first date walking along a local pier, I felt we were made for each other.
Just a year later, we were at the altar in front of our closest friends. It was the happiest day of my life. Damian kept smiling at me while I cried reading my vows. We were about to start the next incredible chapter of our lives together.
But that dream ended abruptly. Before the reception, while we were having our photos taken with some friends, Damian suddenly fainted. At first I thought he was joking. But when he didn’t get up, I was frozen.
People surrounded him and someone called 911. The paramedics treated 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. A doctor came out hours later, his face somber, and told me that Damian had not survived. They said it had been a heart attack. He was only 32 years old. How could a healthy man die like that?
I could hardly contain myself in the days that followed. Everything was a blur until the funeral, when his family showed up. I had only seen them once, and that single encounter was enough.
Damian had warned me about them, but he hadn’t told me everything. His adoptive parents were snobs and controllers. But one of Damian’s friends, Adam, confessed to me that they were also disgustingly rich.
“Damian didn’t tell you about his family’s wealth because he didn’t want it to affect how you saw him,” he said to me in a low voice.
To be honest, I never knew, even though he told me he had a thriving business. It made sense, though. That must be why they didn’t approve of our relationship. I wasn’t from the “right” kind of family and Damian hadn’t invited them to our wedding.
But now they were here and they spent the whole service throwing daggers at me with their eyes. I heard his mother whisper to someone: “He was probably after her money and that’s what got him killed. Call our lawyer.”
I wanted to shout that I didn’t even know Damian had a lot of money, much less that he wanted it. But what good would it do? They had already made up their minds about me, and I didn’t have the strength to fight anyone.
***
Three days after the funeral, I could no longer bear the grief and emptiness. My apartment seemed suffocating to me, for in every corner there was a memory of Damian.
The sadness was overwhelming and it gave me strange thoughts. Besides, his family had started to call me. I never answered, but their voice messages were terrifying.
I needed to get away, so I packed some clothes in a small suitcase, grabbed my passport and called a cab. My plan wasn’t fully formed. I just knew I had to leave the city or the country. Maybe I’d go to Mexico or Aruba. Anywhere that wasn’t here.
When the taxi stopped, I got into the back seat and stared out of the window. I hardly noticed the driver as I settled into the leather and tried to breathe deeply.
“Fasten your seatbelt, please,” the driver suddenly said.
I was paralyzed. My chest tightened and my heart began to beat fast. That voice was Damian’s. I turned my head and looked in the rearview mirror. Those eyes. Those unmistakable hazel eyes.
“Damian?” I stammered. ”But… How? How are you here? What?”
My words made no sense, but suddenly he turned the car onto the freeway and parked in a quiet street. For a moment, he said nothing.
I could see him gripping the steering wheel tightly, as if preparing for something. Then he turned and looked directly at me.
“I’m sorry, Paige,” he said softly, without preamble. ”I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ll explain everything. Please don’t hate me.”
I sat with my eyes wide open and my mouth open throughout Damian’s explanation. It was too much to believe.
First he told me about his family. He was adopted as a teenager and used his brilliance to expand their shady business empire, which was failing miserably in front of him. Over time, he became the mastermind of some of their most successful (and probably illegal) companies.
For a while, he was just happy to have proud parents and to be able to contribute to the family that had given him a home when no one else would. But he got tired of the illegal stuff.
Damian knew it was only a matter of time before they got caught, and he didn’t want to be left with nothing. So he set up a legal business and made it such a success that he decided not to work with his family anymore.
That’s when they turned on him. They wanted to control this company, but Damian managed to hold off their threats until he met me. Their shady businesses were failing without him too.
So they threatened to ruin me and our lives if Damian didn’t give them a piece of the pie.
“I couldn’t let them touch you,” Damian said, rubbing his face. ”They would have destroyed you to get to me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I made them believe I was dead.”
He went on to explain how he staged the whole thing. Apparently, there is a drug that can slow down your heart rate to the point that it mimics death. With the help of a professional who knew the right people to pay, he faked the collapse, the pronouncement from the hospital and even the funeral.
When I asked him how he had escaped the grave, Damian laughed and said he wasn’t in the coffin. He had to be there for the wake, but the fixer managed to get his people to take him out at some point without anyone noticing.
I didn’t know what to say when he finished. Was I in a George Clooney con movie?
“I know I hurt you,” he said, his eyes moistening. ‘But I did it for us. I couldn’t let them win.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, so we stayed in that taxi, on that quiet road, for hours without speaking, except for a few whispered ’I’m sorrys.”
Finally, when night fell, I asked him to take me home.
It was there that the floodgates opened. I spent hours screaming while he tried to justify his actions. “YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD!” I screamed.
“I’m so sorry, babe!”
“DON’T CALL ME BABE!”
In the morning, I was all teary and my voice was hoarse, but in the end I asked, “So what now?” We couldn’t go back to the way we were before. He was supposed to be dead. His family could easily see him here.
Damian then explained his idea for the future. By faking his death, he made sure that all his legitimately earned assets were transferred to me. His family would no longer be able to touch them. All I had to do now was sell it and share it with him.
But very soon I would move abroad for good. I was still shaking my head in disbelief when he asked me something outrageous.
“I know I’ve hurt you a lot, but is there any way you’d like to come with me?” he asked.
I scoffed and remained silent for a long time, but in the end I answered.
“I can’t pick up where we left off, not even in another country,” I told him. ”I’ll do what you need with the assets and the money, but you’ve broken my heart. I don’t think I can trust you enough to start over. I need space.”
He nodded seriously. “I understand. Take all the space and time you need. I have to leave later today. But I’m not giving up on us, Paige. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Before leaving, Damian gave me his contact details and promised to come back to see me when he could.
Over the following weeks, I was furious. I didn’t reply to his messages. But I started to organize the sale of his company and the consolidation of assets. That brought some problems with his parents, who wanted to claim what Damian had left me after his “death”.
I had to see them several times in the presence of lawyers, and they were scary people.
But there was nothing they could do legally to take anything from me, and my lawyers weren’t afraid of them. So they forced his parents to back down and I was able to sell what I needed.
When it was all said and done, I began to see what Damian had done as the right decision. He was protecting himself and me from them. It was reckless and stupid, but also selfless.
Weeks later, I realized something: I still loved him. Despite what he had put me through, my heart hadn’t abandoned me. I picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“Paige?“ he replied, pleasantly surprised.
“Where are you?” I asked. “I’ll come there, but don’t ever do that to me again.”
And that was it. Now I’m in another country where they speak a totally different language, but the beach is 30 minutes away.
I had to give up everything, and it was worth it. Damian and I had another wedding and this time we really got to enjoy it. His parents will never find us, and we’re living our best life.