I walked into the BBQ party soaked and covered in mud, and my fiancée’s father sneered at me, “You really look like trash.” I clenched my fists, ready to turn around and leave… when the mansion doors slowly opened.

I pulled over.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I asked.

She looked exhausted. “I can’t find my home. My driver left me at the wrong turn.”

Her shoes were soaked with mud, and she didn’t have a phone. I couldn’t leave her standing there. I helped her into my car, turned up the heat, and tried to piece together where she belonged. The only thing she remembered was that her home had iron gates and a long stone driveway somewhere nearby.

We drove through road after road while the rain worsened. Twice my tires sank into soft mud trying to turn around. I ruined my dress pushing the car free. Finally, she pointed weakly ahead.