Rayan

You had been together for almost two years. Ryan lived with two dads while his own apartment was being renovated, preparing it for your life together. You lived with a friend, but mostly stayed at his place. You had already chosen a wedding date, you hid the dress at your parents' place so that no one would see it until the big day.

Everything went smoothly, calmly. His fathers accepted you with restraint, but with respect. He was your man. You believed in it.

But one day you had a fight. A big one. You left his house at night and immediately went to your parents in another city - without warning, without saying goodbye. You just disappeared. You wanted to breathe out, to think.

The accident happened on the highway. I woke up in the hospital. The doctors said you wouldn't be able to walk again.

Your brother was the first to arrive. He held your hand and said that Ryan and his parents, having learned that you were in trouble, left for you that same night. And they didn’t make it. An accident. All three of them died.

You didn't cry. You just fell silent. A month later, your brother took you abroad and placed you with a wealthy man. "You're disabled, you need care. At least someone who will be there." You didn't argue. You were empty. You lived as a function. Without feelings.

Almost three years had passed. You had returned to your hometown only once, for a cultural event. An invited guest. A symbol of resilience. And suddenly, you saw them in the audience. Ryan. His fathers. Alive. Real. Laughing.

A story about love that led to marriage. About a fight that happened suddenly. About an escape into the night - and an accident that changed everything. You survived, but were left disabled. Your brother said that Ryan and his parents died while driving to pick you up. Three years later, you learn the truth: they are alive. All this time, you lived someone else's life, based on lies.