Fiancé's Betrayal: My Fatal Wedding Gift

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ment bag containing my death sentence and the artifacts of his lies-dee

a separate, smaller bag. My movements were calm, methodical

are you

ugh my reverie. He stood in the bedroom doorway, h

him. "I' m visiting my parents' gra

sible one. He knew how i

with his desire to believe me. "Fine," he fina

over a soft wool sweater.

case from the top of his closet. "Frank and I have to close

grotesque. I gave him a small, t

e packed, a frown creasing his handsome face. He expected tears, or a

k scroll through Krista' s Instagram feed confirmed it. There, posted just an hour ago, was a pictu

comment: Harden Diaz: Someday

clenched, a familiar, agonizing pain radiating through

ugh the agony. I had to tell him. I had to make o

ained. "I' m not feeling well.

distracted. Before I could say more, I hear

s Muffin! I think he fell off

iculously pampe

t there!" Harden' s voice was laced with genuine panic.

voice cracking. "I think... I th

ed, his patience gone. "You' re not the only person in the world wi

dead. He had

ision. The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. The last thing I saw before the dar

nd beige. The antiseptic smell of a hospital filled my nostr

e side, his face etched with a convincing portrait of worry.

ring open. When he saw I was awake, a

his touch now feeling alien and repulsive. "You scared the

hless. Did he really not remember our conversati

whisper. "You told me I was being dramatic.

oyance at being caught, crossed his f

o Norway. We' re going to take a trip, just the two of us. Anywhere you wan

me the very trip he had planned with his mistress

like a brand, searing my skin. I snatched my hand away as if I' d been

voice breaking. "Is this tri

spital room swung open. Krista breezed in