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I Died on Valentines Day

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen
As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.
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I died on my wedding day.

I sat down in front of the mirror, trying to hold down my tears. My fingers trembled as I touched my face, my reflection blurry through the veil of water gathering in my eyes. I began to question my decision, why do I still want to get married to Daniel after all he did to me? After all the pain I had gone through the past few years.

And last night, I saw him with Lucy, my sister, having sex on the balcony.

My heart felt like it wanted to drop from my chest. My knees weakened, and I stood frozen behind the curtain, breath caught in my throat. How could he do that? Our wedding was the next morning and he was there, pounding into my sister like I didn't exist.

Everything sucks.

I approached them, each step slow, heavy with disbelief. Daniel turned and his eyes widened, mouth parting in shock as he saw me. He looked like he had been caught stealing. Meanwhile, Lucy didn't flinch.

Her expression didn't change, calm, smug, unbothered-as if I was disturbing something unimportant.

Daniel slowly slid out of her and reached for his pants, his hands fumbling like a boy caught doing something shameful. He wanted to say something, maybe some excuse, but I cut him off.

"Why did you do this? God, our wedding is tomorrow and you're here making out with my sister?"

You know what he said? He said it's not what I was thinking.

He looked at me like I was the crazy one. His voice came out soft, laced with guilt and manipulation. I saw right through it.

So I'm a psycho now. He tried to gaslight me, to make me think what he wanted me to think.

I looked at my sister and shook my head. Her face stayed blank, indifferent, as if none of it mattered.

Then I turned and walked away from them. My legs felt like they were about to collapse beneath me.

Now, sitting in my wedding dress with tears in my eyes, the only thing on my mind was that I wished I could die. My mascara had already started to run down my face, black trails over my skin.

I don't want to live like this.

I love Daniel so much-and that scares me more than anything. After all he did, I'm still sitting here, thinking that he might change after the wedding, that he might walk through this door and reassure me that he won't do anything to hurt me anymore.

But I'm just delusional. That's my problem.

I needed fresh air, something to help me breathe again. I cleaned my tears with the back of my hand, even though my makeup was already a mess, and walked out of the room.

I stepped into the cool night air, my heels clicking softly against the stone floor as I walked outside and sat close to the pool. I wrapped my arms around myself, letting the cold brush against my skin.

It was too cold, but I felt like I deserved it. My skin prickled, my bare arms tightening as the breeze whispered over my wedding dress. I closed my eyes as the cold washed over my body.

And then it happened.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest. My eyes snapped open, lungs locked as if the air had been punched out of me.

I looked up and saw him.

A masked man.

I could see the curve of a smile beneath the mask, like he was enjoying this. I gasped, trying to push myself up, but my body was slow, my limbs weak. He stabbed me again, this time in my stomach.

My mouth fell open, no scream came. Just a tear-warm, slow-rolling down my cheek.

Is this how my life ends?

Even as I bled, the only person I was thinking about was Daniel. I hated myself for it. Somewhere deep down, I hoped he would come running, come save me.

My white wedding dress was now drenched with blood, clinging to my skin like wet tissue. Summoning the last bit of strength I had left, I cried out, "Daniel, save me."

But no one came.

Slowly, I couldn't feel myself anymore. My fingers grew numb. My heartbeat slowed. My eyes drifted shut-and I saw darkness.

They say that after death, one may experience reincarnation.

If there was truly another life, I hoped I would never cross paths with Daniel again.

But fate had different plans.

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