My husband died right after we got married, but when I stepped into a taxi, he turned around and looked at me!

When he dropped me back home, the dam broke. I screamed until my throat was raw. “YOU MADE ME BURY YOU!” I cried. He begged for forgiveness, but the betrayal cut deep.

By morning, I was hollow. I asked the only question left: “What now?”

Torin had a plan. By “dying,” he had left everything to me legally—his wealth, his businesses, untouchable by his family. I could sell them, share the proceeds with him, and we could both start fresh. But his life here was finished. He had to leave the country. Then, almost hesitantly, he asked, “Would you come with me?”

I laughed bitterly. “You broke my heart, Torin. I can’t just pick up where we left off.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”