I tugged at the corner of my mouth—something between a smile and a grimace—and started packing. That was when I found our wedding invitation buried among my things.
Tears pooled in my eyes. My vision blurred.
He had once shielded me in a multi-car pileup, wrapping his body around mine so completely that he was the one who ended up in critical condition—unconscious, nearly losing a limb, three days of emergency surgery before he opened his eyes.
On our wedding day, fireworks lit up the entire city just for us. He cried so hard he could barely speak, and afterward he tattooed my name on his skin as a vow of devotion. The whole city was moved by our love story.
And yet this same man—this man who seemed incapable of betrayal—had been keeping my adoptive sister all along. Had legally married her. Had deceived me so thoroughly that even I never saw through it.
I wiped my tears and was about to lie down when a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I can't believe I wasn't here for our anniversary…"
I drew a slow breath, loosened his grip, and hit play on the recording.
…
"What do you have to say?"