I thought I was living a fairy tale when I married Torin, but it turned into a nightmare before the party. I buried my husband three days after our wedding, only to see him driving a taxi.
This isn’t something I can share with folks around me, so I’m using the internet’s cover. Call me Liora. I’m 28, and just months ago, I was the perfect bride.
But my love, who you can call Torin, d..i.e.d after we said our vows. They say your life flashes before you when you’re about to d..i..e, but my whole romance with him played in my mind as he hit the ground.
Torin and I met at a cozy café where I worked part-time. He was one of those quiet, kind customers who always left a good tip and read a book with his coffee.
I’d had a crush on him since I first saw him. But when he asked me out, I was floored. He was handsome with his sharp face, warm brown eyes, and calm confidence.
I was just a regular girl from a simple family, so I couldn’t believe he liked me. But he did, and from our first date walking by the local pier, it felt like we were meant to be.
A year later, we stood at the altar with our closest friends. It was the best day of my life. Torin kept smiling as I cried through my vows. We were ready to start our next big chapter together.
But that dream crashed fast. Before the reception, while taking pictures with friends, Torin suddenly fell. I thought he was joking at first. But when he didn’t get up, I froze.
People crowded around, and someone called 911. Paramedics worked on him right on the dance floor, but nothing helped.
They rushed him to the hospital, and I followed in a daze. A doctor came out hours later, looking grim, and said Torin didn’t make it. They called it a heart attack. He was only 32. How does a healthy guy just d…i..e like that?
I could barely hold it together in the days after. Everything was a blur until the funeral when his family showed up. I’d only met them once, and that was enough.
Torin had warned me about them but didn’t tell me everything. His adoptive parents were snobby and controlling. But one of Torin’s budd..i..e..s, Soren, told me they were also super rich.
“Torin didn’t tell you about their money because he didn’t want it to change how you saw him,” he said quietly.
I honestly had no clue, even though he mentioned having a good business. It made sense, though. That’s probably why they didn’t like me. I wasn’t from the “right” kind of family, and Torin didn’t invite them to our wedding.
But now they were here, staring daggers at me during the service. I overheard his mom whisper to someone, “She was probably after his cash and caused his death. Get our lawyer.”
I wanted to yell that I didn’t even know Torin had money, let alone want it. But what was the point? They’d already decided I was the bad guy, and I didn’t have the strength to argue.
Three days after the funeral, the sadness and emptiness were too much. My apartment felt like a cage, every corner reminding me of Torin.
The grief was crushing and made me think crazy thoughts. On top of that, his family started calling. I never answered, but their voicemails scared me.
I had to get out, so I threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed my passport, and called a taxi. I didn’t have a clear plan. I just knew I needed to leave the city or maybe the country. Maybe Mexico or Aruba. Anywhere but here.
When the taxi pulled up, I got in the back and stared out the window. I barely noticed the driver as I settled into the seat, trying to breathe.
“Put on your seatbelt, please,” the driver said suddenly.
I froze. My heart raced, and my chest tightened. That was Torin’s voice. I turned fast and looked at the rearview mirror. Those same brown eyes.
“Torin?” I choked out. “But… how? Why are you here? What?”
My words were a mess, but he swerved the car off the road toward the highway and parked on a quiet street. For a moment, he said nothing.
I could see his hands gripping the wheel hard, like he was preparing for something. Then he turned and looked at me.
“I’m sorry, Liora,” he said softly, without any lead-up. “I know this is a lot. I’ll explain everything. Please don’t hate me.”
I sat there, eyes wide, mouth open, as Torin told his story. It was hard to believe.
First, he talked about his family. They adopted him as a teen and used his smarts to grow their shady business, which was failing before him. He became the brains behind their biggest (probably illegal) deals.
For a while, he was happy to help the family who took him in when no one else would. But he got sick of the illegal stuff.
Torin knew they’d get caught eventually, and he didn’t want to lose everything. So, he started his own legit business and made it a success, deciding to cut ties with his family.
That’s when they turned on him. They wanted a piece of his new business, but Torin held them off until he met me. Their shady deals were also falling apart without him.
So, they threatened to ruin me and our life if Torin didn’t give them a share.
“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” Torin said, rubbing his face. “They would’ve destroyed you to get to me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I made them think I was dead.”
He explained how he pulled it off. There’s a drug that can slow your heart so much it looks like you’re gone. With help from a fixer who knew who to bribe, he faked the collapse, the hospital report, and even the funeral.
When I asked how he got out of his grave, Torin laughed and said he was never in the coffin. He had to be at the viewing, but the fixer’s people snuck him out without anyone noticing.
I didn’t know what to say when he finished. Was I in some kind of spy movie?
“I know I hurt you,” he said, his eyes tearing up. “But I did it for us. I couldn’t let them win.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. We stayed in that taxi on that quiet road for hours, silent except for a few whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Finally, when night came, I asked him to take me home.
At home, I let it all out. I yelled for hours while he tried to explain himself. “YOU MADE ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD!” I cried.
“I’m so sorry, love!”
“DON’T CALL ME LOVE!”
By morning, I was cried out, my voice gone, but I finally asked, “What now?” We couldn’t go back to normal. He was supposed to be dead. His family could see him here.
Torin shared his plan. By faking his death, he made sure all his honest earnings went to me. His family couldn’t touch them. All I had to do was sell and split it with him.
But soon, he was moving abroad for good. I was shaking my head, still in shock, when he asked something wild.
“I know I hurt you bad, but would you ever come with me?” he asked.
I laughed bitterly and stayed quiet for a long time, but finally, I answered.
“I can’t just pick up where we left off, even in another country,” I said. “I’ll deal with the money and assets, but you broke my heart. I can’t trust you enough to start over. I need space.”
He nodded, serious. “I get it. Take all the time you need. I’m leaving today. But I’m not giving up on us, Liora. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Before Torin left, he gave me his contact info and promised to check in when he could.
For weeks, I was mad. I didn’t reply to his texts. But I started selling his business and sorting out the assets. That caused trouble with his parents, who wanted to take what Torin left me after his “death.”
I had to meet them a few times with lawyers, and they were scary.
But they had no legal power, and my lawyers weren’t afraid. So, his parents backed off, and I was free to sell what I needed.
When it was all done, I started to think Torin did the right thing. He protected us from them. It was crazy and dumb, but also kind of selfless.
Weeks later, I realized I still loved him. Even after everything, my heart wouldn’t let go. I picked up my phone and called him.
“Liora?” he answered, sounding thrilled.
“Where are you?” I asked. “I’ll come, but don’t ever do this again.”
And that was it. Now, I’m in a new country where they speak a different language, but the beach is just 30 minutes away.
I gave up everything, and it was worth it. Torin and I had another wedding, and we enjoyed it this time. His parents will never find us, and we’re living our best life.
