I looked at the bills in my hand and felt my knees go weak. The music echoed from the wedding hall, and the guests danced, unaware that my world had just begun to shake.
Stepping into the hallway, I felt that every step I took brought me closer to an impossible decision. Should I run, as I had been told? Or should I go back to the man who, just minutes ago, seemed like a reliable support?
In front of the hotel, in the darkness between the streetlights, I spotted the silhouette of a black car. The engine was idling. An older woman, wearing a headscarf and a leather jacket, opened the back door.
— Come on, sweetheart, get in quickly, she said curtly.
I got in without asking anything.
On the way, the woman began to talk. She didn’t introduce herself, but she told me about her son — my husband — who, as a child, would mistreat cats, lock his cousin in the basement, and laugh when she cried. No one could stop him. The family covered for him. His father, that stern man who had given me the money, had secretly committed him twice abroad.
— The wedding was a theater. You’re the third girl he’s tried with. The first two… never left their house.
I felt goosebumps. I thought of my parents. Of my father, who always told me, “Not everything that glitters is gold.” Of my mother, who hugged me with tears in her eyes on my wedding day. What would I have told them?
We arrived in a small village, hidden among the hills, in an old house with a porch, where the smell of sweet bread and basil filled the air.
There we stayed for a while.
During the day, I worked with that woman in the garden, and in the evening, I stared blankly, trying to piece my life back together.
I wrote a long letter to my parents. I told them everything. My father came after two days. He didn’t scold me. He just hugged me and said, “I’m glad you’re alive.”
I didn’t want to return to the city.
I rebuilt my life far from everything I knew. I learned to sew, to bake bread, to listen to my heart.
And every time I see a bride on the street, I pray that she is not also a prey with a smile on her lips.
Because sometimes, the most beautiful beginning can hide the most dangerous nightmare.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
