It was the worst day of my life the day I learned my wife had been in a car accident.

My wife had a job interview a few towns over, to get there she had to take the motorway. I offered to drive her there but she wouldn’t have it, she insisted she go alone. She had always been a cautious driver, I knew that, but that didn’t stop my gut from telling me something bad was going to happen.

She left at ten in the morning and got onto the motorway not long after. Things went fine for a few miles until a car came speeding up from behind. My wife’s car had been in the middle lane sandwiched between two other vehicles when the car from behind decided to overtake my wife.

There was nowhere near enough space for it to squeeze through, but it tried anyway. My wife’s car was rear-ended and she span out of control, colliding into the car to her left. The crash caused a huge pile up and several people including my wife were sent to hospital.

I went and visited her as soon as I could. She looked so tired when I entered her room, but she still had the biggest smile on her face when she saw me. “Are you okay?” Was the first thing I asked her, so trivial and generic. I wish I’d told her I loved her first, but I can’t change that now. “I’m fine honestly, do you think this will hinder my chances at getting that job as a driving instructor?” She laughed, and if I hadn’t been so relieved to see her alive, I might have laughed too.