Chapter 5: The Wedding Inferno

Years later, Rachel and I got married.

At the wedding, a high school classmate got drunk and laughed, "Do you guys remember Jason? After he dropped out, he started hanging out at bars, got into trouble, and was eventually killed by some rich woman’s husband. It was even on the news—did you see?"

Rachel’s face went paper white. I’ll never forget the way her hands shook, champagne glass trembling.

That night, while I was drunk, she set our bridal suite on fire.

"You killed him. I could have saved him. He and I could’ve had a great future."

"I only married you because I was done playing around and needed someone to settle for. Eric, you’re such a pushover."

"Every day with you was torture. Now, I’m finally free, hahaha."

"Now, go to hell and atone for your sins."

The flames illuminated her twisted face. The wallpaper curled and blackened, the smell of burning plastic filling the room. The smoke alarm shrieked, and the pounding of fists on the door faded under the roar of the fire.

I never imagined that because of Jason, she had hated me for so many years.

As her hysterical laughter echoed, I lost consciousness. The last thing I saw was her eyes, wild and bright, reflecting the inferno she’d made.

Maybe God heard my silent plea and gave me a chance to start over. A shot at rewriting every choice, every word I’d ever spoken.

This time, I won’t make the same mistakes. I’d stake my soul on it. This time, I’ll save her—or lose myself trying.