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…

…

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!" She collapsed into Mark’s arms.

He picked her up, princess-style, tossing a casual line over his shoulder: "I'll go to the hospital. We'll do the wedding later."

Later? There wouldn’t be a later.

I lay on the floor, clutching my stomach, staring at the blood spreading beneath me. M...