Love to the end
Before I agreed to marry Mark, I knew about his childhood sweetheart, Sarah. They’d had a nasty breakup, supposedly water under the bridge. I was pregnant and happily planning
our wedding. Then, Sarah got into an
accident, lost her memory, and reverted back
to the sweet sixteen–year–old she’d once
been.
Mark asked me to be understanding, to be
patient with her, to indulge her. My jewelry,
makeup, clothes, bags — if she wanted it, she
got it. Our house? Hers to stay in as she
pleased.
Then came the wedding day. Friends and
family, everyone was there. Sarah burst in,
wearing a wedding dress, blood dripping from
a cut on her wrist. She shoved me to the
ground, sobbing, claiming it was her wedding,
that Mark had promised.
Mark scooped her up, all tenderness and
concern. “Okay, okay, let’s get you to the
hospital. We’ll do the wedding later.”
Later? There wouldn’t be a later. He didn’t
even notice the blood pooling beneath me…
T
が
On the actual wedding day, I clutched my
stomach, forcing a smile. If I weren’t
pregnant, I wouldn’t be going through with
this. Who could have predicted that Sarah,
Mark’s supposedly “ex“-childhood
sweetheart, would pull this amnesia stunt?
She remembered only being sixteen, and that
her equally sixteen–year–old Mark had sworn
to marry her. In Mark’s eyes, she was once
again that pure, innocent white rose.
At the climax of the ceremony, Sarah stormed
in, her wedding dress stained with blood.
Blood flowed from her wrist, dyeing the hem
crimson. She gazed at Mark, lost in her own
world. “Marky,” she whimpered, “you
promised you’d marry me. This is my
wedding, right?”
I wanted to throw up. Amnesia, fragility, the
suicide attempt… anyone who bought it was
a fool. And Mark was the biggest fool of all.
He tried to soothe her, to stop the bleeding,
while she clung to him, demanding he swear
his love.
I stood there, frozen, my heart a block of ice.
The whispers of the guests felt like a
thousand hands stripping me bare. This was
my wedding. The most important, most
celebratory moment of a woman’s life. Ha!
What a joke.
The joke got even crueler when Mark finally
embraced Sarah, dismissing me with a wave.
“Wendy, you see how it is. I have to get her to
the hospital.”
Oh, he had to, didn’t he? Any later and the
wound might actually heal.
Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck,
throwing me a triumphant look. “Tell her! Tell
her this is my wedding or I won’t go!”
Mark’s face melted with adoration. “Yes, yes,
<
it’s your wedding. All yours, baby.”
I bit my lip, blocking his path. “Mark, think
about this. You’re the groom. This is our
wedding. Are you sure you want to leave?”
He hesitated. Sarah flew into a rage, shoving
me hard. “You bitch! You homewrecker! Die!”
