I Ran Before He Could Lie

To save Hugh, I took the hit—literally. The kidnappers beat me so bad I ended up with a brain hemorrhage. My mind? Stuck at thirteen.

Hugh, all guilt and promises, said, "Wenna, I'll protect you forever."

And he did.

He watched over me. When the house caught fire, he threw himself over me, took the burns, didn't flinch.

Then came his oh-so-perfect foster sister.

"Mia's not into... slow people. Maybe you should live next door," he said.

And my son? The one I nearly died bringing into the world?

"Stupid woman! You embarrass me and Dad. You're nothing like Aunt Mia—she's smart and pretty. If it weren't for you, she could've been my mom. You should just die!"

To play hero for Mia, my son shoved me into the street. A truck did the rest.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugh proposed.

This time? I wasn't here for his pity.

And I sure as hell wasn't marrying him.

Hugh dropped to one knee, flashed a diamond ring. "Wenna Wade, will you marry me?"

The crowd? Buzzing.

"Look at her—she doesn't even get what a proposal is."

"Hugh's lost it, marrying that kind of burden."

"He's just grateful she saved his life. Anyone would be."

Last time, I couldn't understand the words—just felt the hate and clung to Hugh like a frightened kid.

Now? I got it.

They didn't think I deserved him.

And deep down, they didn't think he loved me, either.

I suddenly remembered my last life—Hugh carrying me through the fire, skin burned and peeling, his voice shaking as he whispered, "Wenna, don't be scared."

When I was in labor, screaming my lungs out, he held my hand, eyes red. "Wenna, hang in there. Our baby's waiting for you. I'm waiting for you too!"

Bowie was this tiny, squishy bundle in his arms. Hugh smiled, teaching him, "Say Mommy. This is Mommy."

Life was good.

Then Mia came back.

She floated in with her designer dresses, bright smiles, and a death grip on Hugh's arm. They looked... cozy.

Hugh started coming home late, reeking of her perfume.

He stopped hearing me, like my slow speech was background noise. I'd show him Bowie's drawings—he'd just pat my head like I was a pet.

Bowie got older, colder.

He crushed the cake I baked. "Don't pick me up from school! Everyone says my mom's a retard. You're ruining my life! Only Aunt Mia should be my mom!"

And yeah—he meant it.

One day, he shoved me into the street. "Die! Give Dad back to Aunt Mia!"

The last thing I saw? Hugh's face—sad, but kinda... relieved.

"Wenna, I've repaid my debt these fifteen years. Please, let me go. Let me be with Mia."

Guess fools and 'normal' people don't mix.

The memories faded like smoke, but the ache in my chest? Still sharp.

I looked down at Hugh, still on one knee.

"No. I'm not marrying you."

***

Hugh froze, then gave this weak little laugh, all soft and patronizing. "Wenna, sweetheart, don't throw a tantrum, okay? I have to go to the airport soon and pick up someone very important. Be good and say yes, and I'll have Patrick get you your favorite milk candies—a whole box, okay?"