The moment seemed to stretch forever as Alexander stood there with the knife raised, his eye wild with desperation and madness. The wedding guests who had followed us outside wer frozen in shock, some covering their mouths in horror, others reaching for their phones to call fo help.
“Alexander, don’t!” Marcus shouted, taking a protective step in front of me. “This won’t solv anything!”
But Alexander wasn’t listening. His gaze was fixed on me with an intensity that made my skir crawl. The tears streaming down his face had turned reddish, whether from burst blood vessels or something else entirely, I didn’t want to know.
‘You think I’m lying,” he said, his voice eerily calm despite the chaos around us. “You think everything I’ve said is just another manipulation.”
He looked down at the silver blade in his hand, then back at me.
‘But I’ll prove it to you, Lauren. I’ll prove that my love is real.”
Before anyone could react, before Marcus could lunge forward to stop him, Alexander made a choice that no one saw coming.
With a sharp thrust, he plunged the long knife into his chest, instantly trembling in unbearable
ɔain.
The sound that escaped from the crowd was collective and horrifying–gasps, screams, someone shouting for an ambulance. But all I could focus on was Alexander’s face as the blade disappeared into his flesh.
‘Look, Lauren,” he gasped, blood already beginning to stain his white shirt around the wound. His voice was weak but desperate. “My heart, my heart…”
He stumbled forward, one hand pressed against the knife handle, the other reaching toward me as if he could somehow bridge the distance between us through sheer will.
My heart has always loved you!”
The sight was horrific and pathetic at the same time. This man who had once commanded boardrooms and controlled every aspect of our marriage was now bleeding on the chapel steps, still trying to manipulate me even in his final moments.
Marcus moved to shield me completely from the scene, but Alexander’s voice carried over his
shoulder.
Lauren, I beg you,” Alexander called out, his voice growing weaker as more blood seeped hrough his fingers. “Look back one last time at my true heart…”
The pitiful, desperate cries echoed in my ears, but I felt nothing. No sympathy, no regret, no second thoughts about my decision. Nine years of emotional abuse had emptied me of any
eelings I might have had for this man.
nstead of turning around, instead of giving him the attention he was literally dying for, I snuggled closer to Marcus, who was looking down at me with concern and love.
‘Hubby,” I said softly, deliberately using the pet name that Alexander had always hated, “crazy
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people are so scary. Please take me away from here.”
Marcus’s expression immediately shifted from worry to understanding. He knew exactly what needed–not drama, not guilt, not one last look at the man who had nearly destroyed me. needed to be taken away from this madness so we could start our real life together.
‘Of course,” he said gently, wrapping his arm around me protectively.
Without another glance at Alexander, who was now on his knees and growing paler by the second, Marcus walked briskly toward our honeymoon car. Behind us, I could hear people shouting for medical help, someone performing CPR, the distant sound of sirens growing closer.
But none of that mattered to me anymore.
Marcus opened the passenger door of his sleek sports car and gently placed me in the seat, making sure I was comfortable before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.
As he settled behind the wheel, he looked at me with a mixture of concern and excitement.
Wife,” he said, starting the engine, “let’s elope.”
The word ‘elope‘ should have seemed strange–after all, we had just gotten married in front of all our friends and family. But I understood what he meant. Let’s leave this chaos behind. Let’s start resh. Let’s run toward happiness instead of away from pain.
Okay,” I agreed, feeling lighter than I had in years.
With a smile in my eyes, I leaned comfortably against Marcus’s shoulder as he pulled out of the chapel parking lot. The leather seats were warm from the afternoon sun, and the engine purged smoothly as we accelerated away from the scene.
Through the rearview mirror, I caught one last glimpse of the chapel. Emergency vehicles were arriving, their red and blue lights flashing against the stone walls. A crowd had gathered around Alexander’s fallen form, but even from this distance, I could see he was still moving, still
conscious.
He would survive this, just like everything else. Men like Alexander always did.
But that was no longer my problem.
As Marcus shifted gears and we picked up speed, I felt the weight of the past finally lifting from my shoulders. The wind through the open windows carried away the last echoes of Alexander’s desperate cries, replacing them with the promise of open roads and new beginnings.
Marcus reached over and took my hand, his thumb tracing over my wedding ring.
‘Where should we go?” he asked, his voice warm with possibilities.
I squeezed his fingers and smiled, watching the countryside blur past us as we drove toward our future.
“Anywhere,” I said. “As long as it’s away from here.”
Letting him floor the gas pedal, we sped toward our true happiness.
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