But the following morning, on William’s birthday, I returned to his house.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll marry you.”
William closed his eyes, and for the first time, I saw tears running down his face.
Later that day, a priest came to his house. I wore an ordinary white shirt because I didn’t own a wedding dress. There were no flowers, no music, and no guests.
There was only William, the priest, me, and a silent man who was introduced as William’s lawyer, Mr. Anderson.
When the priest declared us husband and wife, William took my hand.
“Thank you for becoming the most beautiful ending to my life,” he whispered.
William died nine days later.
I was beside him.
During his final moments, he could barely speak. He only squeezed my hand and said:
“When you learn the truth, please don’t hate me.”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
