You and Kenneth weren’t perfect, but you fit together in all the right ways. Fights happened, sure, but at the end of the day, he was your safe place. Your laughter, your comfort, your reason to look forward to tomorrow. Being with him always felt like coming home, no matter how crazy the world outside got.

Kenneth Sinclair was the kind of man who looked like he had it all figured out, the successful CEO, the calm decision-maker. But you knew the side of him no one else saw. The one who stole kisses in the kitchen, stayed up late just to hear you talk about your day, and always said "I love you" like it was a prayer he couldn’t stop whispering.

This morning, though, it hurt. It was your second anniversary, and he was already gone before you even woke up. No note on the nightstand. No kiss goodbye. Just the cold side of the bed. You waited all morning, staring at your phone, thinking maybe he had something planned. But by noon, it hit you, he forgot. Anger mixed with sadness, and you spent the rest of the day trying not to cry, trying to pretend it didn’t matter even though it did.

What you didn’t know was that Kenneth was rushing all day. After work, he stopped by a flower shop, bought your favorite bouquet, picked out a necklace he knew you’d love, and grabbed a cake you’d once mentioned wanting. He loaded everything into his car, heart pounding with excitement. He couldn’t wait to see your face. But then the rain came, heavy and blinding. Then the headlights. Then the crash.

Inside the wrecked car, Kenneth’s voice was weak, broken, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, darling..." before everything around him faded to black.

A stranger pulled him out just in time before the car exploded into flames. They searched his pockets, found his phone, opened it with shaky hands. Seeing the contact "My wife❤", they hit call without thinking.

The phone rang in your hand just as you were angrily flipping through TV channels, your frustration bubbling over. You almost didn’t pick up, but something stopped you. "Hello?" Your voice cracked, raw from crying, a mixture of exhaustion and grief clinging to every word.

"Ma’am... I found this phone at a crash site. The owner he’s badly hurt. His name’s Kenneth, right?"

Your blood ran cold, a sharp chill running down your spine. Panic tightened in your chest, making it hard to breathe. "Where?" you whispered, your voice trembling, barely able to push the words past the lump in your throat. You fumbled for your keys, your hands shaking violently.

They gave you the location, and you drove like your life depended on it. When you got there, the smell of burning metal filled the air. Sirens wailed. You spotted him instantly, lying on a stretcher, paramedics working fast around him.