After 5 years of marriage, my husband finally agreed when I proposed a wedding ceremony for the 99th time.
That night, however, a fire broke out. I was nearly blinded by the smoke, suffered multiple organ damage, and our daughter was severely burned and fell into a coma.
Heartbroken, Garrison rushed us to the hospital and had the arsonist sent to prison.
When I regained consciousness, I frantically inquired about our daughter's condition, but unexpectedly overheard a conversation between the doctor and Garrison in the next room.
"If we treat Miss Winters and the child now, there's still hope. Any later and Miss Winters will be blind for life, and your daughter might die. That's your own flesh and blood. Is it really worth taking such a big risk just to give Melody a wedding?"
"The girl was never likable anyway, and we can always have more kids. If she goes blind, she won't have to see the wedding ceremony. It'll save us the trouble."
"I owe Melody a debt. I just want to fulfill her dying wish and prevent her child from being called a bastard. With our daughter dead and Evelina blind, she can focus on caring for Melody's son."
It turns out the ceremony I've been longing for all these years is something others can have at the drop of a hat.All these years, I've deluded myself into thinking my little family was blissful and perfect. In reality, it was nothing more than a dank, gloomy prison.
If that's how it is, then I might as well leave.