“Just make sure the wedding happens. Once she’s your wife, we can deal with her later. She has nowhere else to go.”
My heart pounded so loudly I thought they might hear it through the phone.
Daniel answered calmly, “She won’t leave. Not with kids. She needs me.”
I looked down the hallway toward my sleeping children.
And suddenly everything became clear.
They didn’t need him.
They needed me.
I picked up the phone and ended the call. For a long minute I stood still, staring at the wedding decorations like they were evidence at a crime scene.
Then I started packing.
Quietly. Quickly. With purpose.
I grabbed two duffel bags and filled them with clothes for Noah and Lily, their favorite stuffed animals, their birth certificates, my work laptop, and an envelope containing my savings—the money Daniel used to tease me for keeping “just in case.”
At 2:13 a.m., I opened the front door and listened to the silence.
My hands were steady now.
Because I had already decided.
Tomorrow would not be my wedding day.
Tomorrow would be my escape.
Just as I zipped the last bag, my phone buzzed with a text from Daniel.
“Hey babe, can you sign the document I emailed? It’s just a small form for after we’re married.”