The Wife He Threw Away, Rebuilt

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each burst a mocking echo of my burning heart. I watched, numb, as new words formed in

r the possibility that he might move on, find someone else after four years of my presumed death. A pa

ther. I' d been absent. Maybe, I reasoned in the dark al

always coveting what was mine. That was the unforgivable sin. The ultimat

mpty, much like my soul. The city hummed with a distant, celebratory

needed a place to rest, a place to plan. And there was only one place I kn

ong of young, impeccably dressed partygoers spilled out of the gates, their laughter echoing in the cool night ai

. "Look what the cat dragged in! A real-life street walker!" he slurred, shoving his fri

dignity, what little remained, was still mine to defend.

we? Just like the old man said, some people need to

urning an opponent's aggression against them. My movements were clumsy, my body stiff with pain, but the muscle memory was

!" someo

their motorcycles, the engines roaring to life, a predatory symphony i

It slammed into me from behind. I felt the impact, a brutal crunch of bone and metal, before I was se

e dead?" "We hit her too hard!" "What do w

on my face. My eyelids fluttered open, my vision blur

anda Park?" A woman's voi

! She died four years

woman gasped. "Brody Sharpe's

hen, a familiar voice, sharp with ir

crowd, their faces a mixture of curiosity and annoyance,

It appears to be your missing wife, Ama

forward, pushing through the onlookers. He lo

can't be. She's... she's just some homeless wom

ady again? The one who called herself Mom? She's not my mom, right? My m

devoid of emotion. "Amanda would never look like this. She wouldn't be here." He pushed a lock of matted hair from my f

with the blood from my scrapes. My world fractured. I saw his face, the face of the man wh

y years ago, whispered against my hair, "

r. A whole lineage of men who discarded women when they were no longe