Sarah had cried with joy then, and I vowed to hustle harder to upgrade her diamond by next year.
Over those three years, I not only upgraded the diamond but also bought gold bars, all handed to her.
Except for that house she wanted—I hadn't managed the down payment yet. Whatever she wished for, I delivered.
Yet now...
"What's got you spaced out? Rough morning?"
Paul, my lifelong pal, was waving his hand in my face, trying to snap me out of it.
"I don't wanna propose anymore."
I eyed Paul, suited up just for my big moment.
"What? Cut the crap, she's right here." He didn't take me seriously.
Paul wasn't just any friend; he was slated to be my boss.
I trusted him as much as I trusted myself.
Sarah approached, flanked by her bridesmaids.
As Paul pushed me forward, the crowd started cheering.
I locked my eyes on this woman I'd loved for ages.
I knew every detail of her face, every little mark, like the mole at her waist.
Instinctively, I began to kneel, but as my knee touched the ground, the doctor's words flashed back.
"Too much strychnine in your system."
Proposing? Not a chance.
No way I was tying the knot with someone who had tried to kill me.