. She found herself unable to comprehend what she had just been told. “I'm sorry, what? I'm his fiancée,” she announced, eyeing the receptionist as she looked down on her fingers for a ring. “How

more and before she knew it, her fingers were unclenched and were shaking again. Hernandez returned back to them. “Alright,” he said. “I got you three minutes.” “Three minutes?” Tiffany asked painfully. “That was all I could do, Tiff. I'm sorry.” “It's okay, it's okay,” she assured. “Thank you.” She eyed the receptionist hatefully as she hurried towards the room Hernandez had directed her to. Her heat pounding faster at every step she took. Once she arrived at the door, the door nob twisted and it opened by itself, catching Tiffany by surprise. An elderly lady stood in front of her, her hair was almost grey and she was quite small. The frame of her glasses seemed to be actual gold and her lipstick was too faddish for a woman her age. Tiffany blinked. “How can I help you?” the woman asked. “Uh. . . I just. . . I wanna see Christian,” Tiffany replied. “I was with him the night of the accident and I—” “No, you were not!” the woman basted. “Excuse me?” Tiffany was slightly overwhelmed by the woman's outburst. “My son was alone in the car with his driver,” the woman said. “There was no one else found with him. I do not know who you are, woman.” *Son?* “Oh my God, I'm so sorry, ma'am. Your son has told you about me and me about you. I'm his fiancée, Tiffany Andrews? I was in the car with him but I managed to crawl myself out and I fainted.” “My son has never told me about any Tiffany Andrews and

ow to receive. One part of her was overjoyed at the idea of being a mother and the other part was drenched in pain and sadness over the idea of being a mother — without Christian by her side. It had been twenty-two days. She sipped the hot chocolate that she had prepared for herself, turning on the television to her favourite sh