“A hospital? Why would we celebrate there?”
Her tone was soft but unwavering. “You’ll find out later, Logan.”
“Later? Anna, that’s not a wedding venue. That’s a place for surgeries and bad news.”
“Please,” she said, finally meeting my eyes. “Just trust me on this.”
She refused to say anything more.
For the next few days, I watched her carefully.
Was she sick? No—she looked perfectly healthy, eating well and going for her morning runs. She wasn’t going in for any tests or appointments either.
I couldn’t understand her reasoning, but I agreed. Loving Anna meant trusting her, even when she made no sense.
She took care of everything.
Two weeks later, we were in the car, heading to a hospital to get married in the ward for critically ill patients.
“Will you tell me why we’re here now?” I asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Why are we doing this surrounded by people fighting for their lives?”
Anna reached over and squeezed my hand. Hers trembled slightly.
For a second, it looked like she might finally tell me. The words were right there.
But she held back.
