Twenty-Seven Days of Deceit

Twenty-Seven Days of Deceit

Danruo Chami

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For twenty-seven days, I sat hoping by my mother' s hospital bed, begging Olivia, the woman I' d loved for six years, to marry me. Her excuses flowed like water-"Swamped with work," "Bad timing," "Next week, honey." Then, a text. And a picture. Olivia, radiant in a wedding dress, arm-in-arm with Brandon, her childhood friend. The marriage certificate read: twenty-seven days ago. The very day my dying mother had entered the hospital and I' d first proposed. The world shattered. My phone buzzed again, an apology from Olivia: she couldn' t make our courthouse wedding, Brandon wasn' t feeling well. Another lie. That same evening, the nurse grimly told me Mom had passed away. Olivia' s deceit had poisoned her last wish. I was numb, my heart a block of ice. When Olivia called later, feigning concern, trying to string me along with more empty promises, something snapped. "Mom is dead, Olivia," I said, then hung up, letting myself finally break. I wouldn' t forgive her. Not for Mom. Not for me. I purged everything-my job, my apartment, every trace of her. But she just wouldn' t quit. Then, the ultimate betrayal: I found Brandon, her secret husband, in my bed, in my apartment, wearing my clothes, while she tried to pull another pretense of love. I walked out, leaving the wreckage behind. I fled south, seeking a clean break, a new start. My life was shattered, but I vowed to rebuild.

Introduction

For twenty-seven days, I sat hoping by my mother' s hospital bed, begging Olivia, the woman I' d loved for six years, to marry me.

Her excuses flowed like water-"Swamped with work," "Bad timing," "Next week, honey."

Then, a text. And a picture. Olivia, radiant in a wedding dress, arm-in-arm with Brandon, her childhood friend. The marriage certificate read: twenty-seven days ago. The very day my dying mother had entered the hospital and I' d first proposed.

The world shattered. My phone buzzed again, an apology from Olivia: she couldn' t make our courthouse wedding, Brandon wasn' t feeling well. Another lie.

That same evening, the nurse grimly told me Mom had passed away. Olivia' s deceit had poisoned her last wish.

I was numb, my heart a block of ice. When Olivia called later, feigning concern, trying to string me along with more empty promises, something snapped.

"Mom is dead, Olivia," I said, then hung up, letting myself finally break. I wouldn' t forgive her. Not for Mom. Not for me.

I purged everything-my job, my apartment, every trace of her. But she just wouldn' t quit.

Then, the ultimate betrayal: I found Brandon, her secret husband, in my bed, in my apartment, wearing my clothes, while she tried to pull another pretense of love. I walked out, leaving the wreckage behind.

I fled south, seeking a clean break, a new start. My life was shattered, but I vowed to rebuild.

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