March 2013 and the wedding was only nine months away. The date was set, the venue booked, the first dance chosen. But all of a sudden, just like that, everything was broken – our engagement, his promises, my heart.

It was the kind of heartbreak that seeped into every ounce of my being – even my bones felt heavy with sadness. The spaces around me felt too small and I knew I had to get away, for a change of scenery and a chance to breathe.

Things started to feel different as soon as I stepped off the plane. Like putting on sunglasses after staring into the glare of the sun, the harshness of the world now seemed softer, more manageable.

A luxury car, a respectfully quiet driver, a coastal road, and finally a turn off at a non-descript gate leading up a long, winding driveway. Then I was there – The Farm at Cape Kidnappers, my sanctuary for two nights of soul-saving luxury.

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