When Cole and his fiancée, Linda, go to her hometown, he realizes he was present when Linda’s father died in a twist of fate. Now, he has to tell Linda and her mother the truth.

I was never really the guy to believe in fate. I figured that if something was going to happen, it would happen. And that would be it — with no other grand plan in place. But then, I found out who Linda’s father was, and I was responsible for his death. Suddenly, it seemed that fate did have a play in it. Here’s what happened: I’m thirty years old, deeply in love with my fiancée, Linda, and we’re getting busy planning our wedding. We met two years ago in the enchanting chaos that is New York City and has never been apart since.

Linda and I decided to visit her parents’ house in Phoenix. I had met Linda’s Mom before because she came to New York to stay with Linda every so often. I knew that her father, Leonard, had passed away when she was just a child, but that was about it. Our visit was because Linda wanted to show me the home she grew up in,

And to show me where she grew up — where I could have met her if my family hadn’t moved away after my father got a job in New York. If fate had played her hand, then I would have met Linda before we moved. But more than that, Linda wanted to ask her mother, Veronica, if she could use her veil for our wedding. Dinner was a hearty affair — a lot of laughter and lots of delicious food. Veronica’s chili alone was well worth the trip. But then came the old photographs of Linda. “Cole,” Veronica said, handing me an album. “You’ve got to see Linda’s hair during her rebellious years.” It was all good fun and innocent. Until I stumbled upon a photo of Linda and her father. It made my blood run cold. I held the old photograph briefly, the beer bottle in my hand shaking slightly. In the photograph was a face I had never expected to see, and certainly not in Linda’s family album. Without thinking, I blurted out a confession. “I’m so sorry to say this, but I’m the reason your father is dead. Linda, I killed him.” Linda’s joyous expression morphed into confusion and disbelief. Her face contorted before my eyes. “What do you mean, Cole?” she asked. “My father died about twenty years ago.