Left To Burn: My Husband's Betrayal

e Spar

, sounded genuinely shocked on the other end of the line.

ed, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion s

decade-long devotion that had consumed my youth. She had seen me at my lowest,

effortless charm, his dark hair falling just so, his eyes intense and captivating. The room buzzed with his presence, and ev

ances with him. He would pause his brilliant arguments, just for a second, a gentle smile touching his lips only for her. Everyone saw

dulge her every whim, forgive her every transgression. She was flighty, always breaking his heart, running of

he d

started going on blind dates. My chance. I used every connection I had, every favor owe

ike Isabelle used to wear. It was pathetic, I knew, but I was desperate. I walked in, and his

romantic. "You remind me of her," he said, his vo

any crumb he offered. I would be his safe harbor, his predictable wife.

is heart. He would occasionally reach for me in the dark, a phantom touch, a brief moment of intimacy when he was lonely or tired from work. I always pre

abelle r

ything s

igue. One afternoon, Isabelle showed up at our house, unannounced. She w

ered, sipping a glass of champagne she'd poured herself.

throat. I clutched my belly. "Get ou

en's house. Which means it's my house too, whenever I want it

nds flying out to steady myself. "Isabelle,

competition?" She then lunged, grabbing my arm, twisting

loor, weeping, clutching her knee. He saw me, pale an

anded on me. He didn't ask. He d

, Celeste?" His

started, but

nd don't come out u

droom, the pain in my abdomen intensifying. I locked the door, curled

ever

house was silent, filled only with my desperate pleas and the growi

my nostrils. The fluorescent lights overhead were blinding

at looked like guilt. "Celeste," he began, h

my voice raw from screaming. "That I wa

ldn't save it." He handed me a folded check. "It's a substan

ney can compensate for a child? For five years of my life? For

stic outburst. "I truly am sorry, Celeste. I know I wa

Always Isabelle. My child was gone, a part of m

not for my shattered dreams, but for the naive fool I had been. For the woman who ha

wavering resolve. I filed for divorce. I applied for the overseas transfer.

I had no intention of mourni