The Truth Set Her Free

The Truth Set Her Free

Gavin

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The long shadows of the late afternoon stretch across my perfectly curated living room, a silent testament to the lie my life has become. My husband, Liam, a rising star, values perfection-a facade we' ve painstakingly built. Our marriage is a stable, respectable union on paper, a performance, with me, a talented architect, as his willing partner. Then he died, swiftly, unexpectedly, at forty-five. Buried within his belongings, a locked box in his study, I found it: the truth. Letters, photographs-a hidden life with Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, his true love for decades. My entire marriage, my twenty years, was an elaborate charade for his reputation. The pain was a physical entity, suffocating, extinguishing my will to live. I died too, then woke up. Not in a hospital, not in an afterlife, but here, in this cold house, two years into my marriage, twenty-four again. The ghost of a twenty-year lie lived inside me, but it brought a cold, hard resolve. I would not let it happen again, not waste another two decades as a supporting character. I will live for myself this time. The key in the lock, Liam' s flat voice: "I'm home." This time, I remained seated. His brow furrowed, unused to my stillness. "Is something wrong?" "Just tired," I replied, my voice as level as his. He was a stranger now, every gesture filtered through future knowledge, every polite smile a calculation, every question a check on his investment. He funded Chloe' s art studies abroad, a fortune spent while I pinched pennies. That money, even now, was for her. The rage was cold, sharp. Then, he dropped the bombshell: "Chloe is coming back... she could stay with us for a while." My heart stilled. It was happening again. In my past life, I agreed, eager to please, starting my slow erasure. This time, I looked directly at him, seeing the feigned concern, the carefully constructed lie. "No," I said, the word a slammed door. His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed. "What did you say?" "I said no," I repeated, my voice gaining strength. "She can't stay here." A strange power surged. He was dealing with a different woman now, a woman who knew all his secrets.

Introduction

The long shadows of the late afternoon stretch across my perfectly curated living room, a silent testament to the lie my life has become.

My husband, Liam, a rising star, values perfection-a facade we' ve painstakingly built.

Our marriage is a stable, respectable union on paper, a performance, with me, a talented architect, as his willing partner.

Then he died, swiftly, unexpectedly, at forty-five.

Buried within his belongings, a locked box in his study, I found it: the truth.

Letters, photographs-a hidden life with Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, his true love for decades.

My entire marriage, my twenty years, was an elaborate charade for his reputation.

The pain was a physical entity, suffocating, extinguishing my will to live.

I died too, then woke up.

Not in a hospital, not in an afterlife, but here, in this cold house, two years into my marriage, twenty-four again.

The ghost of a twenty-year lie lived inside me, but it brought a cold, hard resolve.

I would not let it happen again, not waste another two decades as a supporting character.

I will live for myself this time.

The key in the lock, Liam' s flat voice: "I'm home."

This time, I remained seated.

His brow furrowed, unused to my stillness.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just tired," I replied, my voice as level as his.

He was a stranger now, every gesture filtered through future knowledge, every polite smile a calculation, every question a check on his investment.

He funded Chloe' s art studies abroad, a fortune spent while I pinched pennies.

That money, even now, was for her.

The rage was cold, sharp.

Then, he dropped the bombshell: "Chloe is coming back... she could stay with us for a while."

My heart stilled.

It was happening again.

In my past life, I agreed, eager to please, starting my slow erasure.

This time, I looked directly at him, seeing the feigned concern, the carefully constructed lie.

"No," I said, the word a slammed door.

His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed.

"What did you say?"

"I said no," I repeated, my voice gaining strength.

"She can't stay here."

A strange power surged.

He was dealing with a different woman now, a woman who knew all his secrets.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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