Chapter 4
Samuel finally looked up.
However, Janet quickly pulled him back, "You're imagining things, there's nobody here."
She checked her watch, "I'm feeling sleepy, Samuel. Let's head out, okay?"
He hesitated, then peered into the desolate garage and shook his head, "Let's wait a bit. It's hard to catch a cab now, and it's not safe for her by herself."
"Samuel, she's Don Jones' daughter. Do you really think she needs us to give her a ride?" Janet chuckled.
Samuel mulled it over and, seeing the sense in her words, floored the accelerator.
I spat out a mouthful of blood and, in a final act of despair, shut my eyes.
'Samuel, I was ready to forgive you, even begged for one last chance on your behalf.
Too bad, you just couldn't seize it,' I mused.
Coming again, I was a mess of tubes and wires.
From outside the hospital room, my father's furious voice thundered.
"Who in the world thinks they can mess with my daughter and get away with it? Find him! I'll make him pay dearly!"
I turned to the nurse, my voice barely a whisper.
"How long have I been out?"
"Three days, Ms. Jones."
Three days, which meant my wedding was tomorrow.
My phone was flooded with messages from Samuel.
[Ignoring me? What's got you so upset this time?]
[Look, I was just helping out a friend that night. You're not getting jealous over that, are you?]
[Come on, don't be mad. For our honeymoon, I'll whisk you away to your beloved Florenza.]
...
However, it was not just him. I had a pile of anonymous emails waiting.
They were videos from Janet's birthday bash.
On June fourth, there he was, arm around Janet, slicing her birthday cake.
The same men who used to call me Ms. Jones were then eagerly calling her Mrs. Gordon.
My eyes turned icy, and just then, a chat notification popped up.
It was Samuel.
"You finally answered." His voice was light, tinged with self-satisfaction.
"Yeah," I replied, drained of energy.
Samuel hesitated, picking up on the change in my voice.
"What- what happened to you?"
"Me?" I let out a wry chuckle, "I've just been brought back from the brink."
"Claire!" His voice boomed with frustration. "When will you stop this madness? How could you even say such things?"
I could not muster a reply; the pain sapped all my strength.
Samuel mistook my silence for sorrow, and his voice softened.
"Enough with the wild talk.
"Our wedding is tomorrow. Can we stop fighting now? Five years of this wasn't enough?
"I'll see you there tomorrow. I've got a surprise for you."
The call ended, and I slumped against the hospital bed, exhausted.
When I next spoke, my voice was ice. "Get me out of here. I have a wedding to attend tomorrow."
The next morning, Samuel arrived at the venue, sharp in his suit, with the Gordon family's guests in tow. However, my side was eerily empty —no family members in sight, and no bride.
"Samuel, do you think Claire doesn't know we moved the date?"
The guests whispered among themselves as Samuel, flustered, dialed my number.
"Claire! Where are you? You can't just vanish on our wedding day. If you miss today, there's no do-over!"
"Who says I'm missing anything?" My voice was a whisper, a phone in my hand.
The grand church music played through the call, freezing Samuel in place.
"Where are you? What are you doing?!"
A faint smile crossed my lips.
"I'm getting married."
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