I thought I had found my happily ever after when I married Damian. But that dream turned into a nightmare before the reception even began. Three days after our wedding, I buried my husband, only to come face-to-face with him behind the wheel of a taxi weeks later.
This isn’t something I can share openly, so I’m turning to the anonymity of the internet. You can call me Paige. I’m 28 years old, and not long ago, I was the picture-perfect bride.
Damian and I met at a small café where I worked part-time. He was one of those quiet, polite customers who tipped generously and always had a book in hand. From the moment I saw him, I was smitten. When he finally asked me out, I was stunned—he was gorgeous and charming, and I couldn’t believe he was interested in someone as ordinary as me.
