It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
The sun was shining, my dress was perfect, and Mark looked at me like I was his entire world.
We’d just said ‘I do,’ the cheers still echoing in the old chapel walls.
Every moment felt like a dream I never wanted to wake from.
My hand was clasped in his, a delicate lace glove against his warm skin.
We ran through a shower of rose petals and rice, laughing, intoxicated by joy.
Our beautiful vintage getaway car, a gift from my parents, was waiting at the curb.
“To our future, Mrs. Harrison,” Mark whispered, kissing my temple as he opened the passenger door for me.
My heart swelled with a happiness so profound it almost hurt.
I slid into the plush leather seat, my voluminous dress rustling around me.
Mark got in, started the engine, and we waved goodbye to our guests through the back window.
The engine purred as we pulled away, leaving behind the fairy tale ceremony.
We were finally husband and wife, off to begin our lives together.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling the rumble of the road and the steady beat of his heart.
He reached over, squeezing my hand, his eyes on the road but his smile entirely for me.
We were only a few blocks away, still buzzing with the excitement of the moment.
Then, a sudden, blinding flash of light.
A screech of tires that ripped through the quiet afternoon.
A violent, sickening lurch that threw me forward.
The world spun, a cacophony of shattering glass and grinding metal.
Everything went black for a split second, then a daze of pain and confusion.
My head throbbed, my body ached, and I could taste blood.
The car was mangled, smoke beginning to billow from the hood.
I tried to move, but my seatbelt was digging into me, holding me fast.
“Mark?” I gasped, my voice thin, filled with terror.
He was slumped against the steering wheel, dazed, but slowly stirring.
“Are you okay?” he groaned, trying to push himself upright.
But then I heard something else.
A muffled cry, a whimper, coming from the back seat.
My blood ran cold.
We were alone in the car, weren’t we?
Mark’s eyes snapped open, wide with a panic I’d never seen before, a panic that wasn’t just about the crash.
He scrambled to unbuckle himself, his movements frantic and desperate.
“Stay here, Amelia, don’t move,” he barked, his voice tight with urgency as he twisted around.
But I could see.
Through the shattered rear window, through the rising smoke, there was someone else.
A woman.
She was slumped, unconscious, tangled in a blanket, in the back.
