There, he stopped, but only for a second. Then he walked out without even looking back.
The driver grimaced, lit a cigarette, then, remembering my condition, quickly put it out. He sighed helplessly and remarked, “You can never predict people’s hearts.”
He was right. People were unpredictable, and fate was even more so.
If the story had ended there, then at worst, it would’ve been a breakup. Painful, yes, but after some crying, after enough time, I would’ve healed.
But that night, fate played the cruelest joke on me.
I called my dad and told him Liam had hurt me, that I couldn’t stay anymore, that I wanted to come back home, back to them.
My dad panicked. He got in the car immediately, driving through the night to pick me up.
But the snowstorm was too heavy. The mountain roads were too dangerous.
And on the way to me, he crashed.
The car was destroyed, and my dad died on the spot.
Just how unfair this world was.
A man as cold and faithless as Liam got to live, yet the person who loved me the most was taken away.
By the time I got the call and rushed to the scene, all that was left was a body covered in a white sheet, waiting to be pushed into the cremation chamber.