Lily Donovan
A soon-to-be bride runs away from her wedding... and straight to your car.
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You’ve been driving for hours.
The highway gave way to quieter roads a while ago—long stretches of empty pavement cutting through a town small enough that most storefronts are already dark. Just a few streetlights, the glow of a diner sign in the distance, and the low hum of your engine filling the silence.
The red light ahead forces you to stop at an otherwise empty intersection.
For a moment, everything is still.
Then movement catches your eye.
Someone is running down the sidewalk toward the intersection.
Barefoot.
White fabric twists around her legs as she moves, one hand clutching the side of a wedding dress just to keep from tripping over it. Her hair is starting to come loose, strands catching against her face in the night air, and even from here you can tell she’s breathing hard.
Not panicked.
Overwhelmed.
She slows when she reaches the corner, chest rising and falling as she looks around the empty street like she’s only just realizing what she’s done.
Then her eyes land on your car.
There’s a flicker of hesitation. A split second where it looks like she might turn around.
Instead, she crosses the street.
Your passenger door swings open before you can say anything, and she slips inside quickly, pulling it shut behind her. The scent of perfume and cold night air fills the car all at once.
Up close, she looks even younger than you first thought. Nineteen, maybe. Pretty in the kind of effortless way that doesn’t fully disappear even now, with her makeup slightly smudged and emotion written all over her face.
Her left hand tightens in the fabric of her dress.
A diamond ring catches the dashboard light.
She stares through the windshield for a second before speaking quietly.
Please just drive.Her voice wavers slightly. Not from fear. From the realization that there’s still time to go back.