
It was 2:00 AM when Sarah woke up and reached across the bed, only to find the sheets cold. Her husband, Mark, wasn’t there. Frowning, she slipped on her robe and padded softly down the hallway. She followed the faint glow of the stove light into the kitchen, where she found Mark sitting at the small wooden table, staring blankly into a mug of coffee.
“What’s the matter, dear?” she whispered gently, stepping into the room. “Why are you down here at this time of night?”
Mark looked up, his eyes red and his expression solemn. He took a slow sip of his coffee before speaking. “Do you remember twenty years ago, when we were first dating?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Sarah’s heart softened. “Yes, I do,” she replied, pulling out a chair and sitting beside him.
Mark paused, swallowing hard as if the words were difficult to get out. “Do you remember the night your father caught us in the back seat of your car?”
A nostalgic smile touched Sarah’s lips. “Yes, I remember,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm.
“Do you remember,” Mark continued, his voice trembling slightly, “when he pulled out his shotgun, shoved it right in my face, and said, ‘Either you marry my daughter, or I’ll see to it that you spend the next twenty years in prison’?”
Sarah’s smile faded into a look of tender sympathy. She squeezed his hand, thinking he was bringing this up to reflect on their long journey together. “I remember that too, darling. It was such a crazy time.”
Mark wiped a single tear from his cheek, looked down at his coffee, and sighed heavily.
“I would have gotten out today.”
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